


An Old Acquaintance Among the Pines

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Case Fic, Challenge Response, Hallucifer, Hallucinations, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Original Character(s), Psychological Horror, Slash, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: After six people have gone missing and two have turned up dead, the boys take on the case in the small town of Pineville. With Dean injured and Sam's mental state hanging in the balance, they're operating at half capacity, but whatever is creeping up from underneath the floorboards and stealing people away isn't going to go down easily...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Acquaintance Among the Pines

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for spn_reversebang for eleke's awesome Creeping Curse prompt. This is set during early season 7 while Lucifer's still hanging around and Bobby hasn't kicked it yet.

\---{{--}}---

_Dirt._

_So much…so much earth…_

_In the way._

_So much…_

_So… tired…so…_

_Weak._

\---{{--}}---

 

“So. Five miles to Pleasantville, Sammy. Wanna remind me what we’re up against?”

“Well, for starters, it’s _Pine_ ville, but by all accounts it seems pretty _un_ pleasant.” Sensing the sudden, unwelcome presence behind him, Sam sighed in resignation and shuffled through the newspaper articles and handwritten notes spread out over his lap and the dashboard. He’d managed to grab enough info that morning before they’d left the motel that it had kept him busy reading and making annotations and pondering for the majority of the day’s drive. They hadn’t even reached their destination yet but his spidey-sense was already tingling – whatever they were about to get themselves into was going to be something risky. He just hoped he could keep his head on straight. 

“It’s all really unclear. There’s been half a dozen reported disappearances - all men and women in their twenties. Three bodies found - all connected to, but not _belonging_ to the disappeared persons. The first girl, Nancy Caldwell, disappeared around two-and-a-half months back. Her house backs onto a section of the forest that surrounds the town so they originally sent out search parties thinking she’d gone wandering or something.”

“Maybe a bear got ‘er.”

“Well, far as we’re concerned, that would be a first...”

“Just you wait, Sammy. One day it’s actually gonna be a fucking bear and I’m gonna laugh til I cry.”

“Yeah,” Sam puffed out an almost-laugh, “‘specially when we rock up in our FBI get-ups to investigate it.”

“I’ll say.” Dean grinned and steered the car into a right turn.

“But anyway, they found no trace of her but they did find some weird holes in the floor of her house, they went right down into the earth underneath and no one can explain it. Then the most recent one - another girl, Katja Romanov - disappeared about two days ago and they found her boyfriend Wesley in the bedroom already dead, and her neighbour Madge on the back porch also dead with a shattered bowl of tuna bake all over the ground.”

“An unfortunate waste of tuna bake, that.”

“He’s right, y’know, I’m sure it was a perfectly good tuna bake, too.”

Sam ignored both his brother and the mumbled comments from the backseat as he continued to recite his findings. “The police say they haven’t found any definitive link between the disappearances, but all the victims are long term residents with jobs and partners etcetera, and Pineville is noted to have a very low crime rate – Nancy was the first disappearance there in over three years. So because of that they think there’s a single person or group behind it all. On top of which, there’s no further mention of any more of those holes in the ground, and it hasn’t been noted how any of the deceased were actually killed.”

Dean made a face, thinking for a moment. “Which probably means it was either something really weird that they can’t explain or they haven’t found any sign of the cause to begin with.”

“We’ll have to get a look at the bodies in that case.”

“Cadavers on the menu again, I can’t wait.”

“Well, bodies, they’re a necessary evil,” drifted across from behind Sam’s shoulder, “A little like me! But seriously, you’d think after everything, your brother wouldn’t be so quick to judge a corpse. I mean, he hasn’t even seen these ones yet. There could be a pretty girl there, adorned in that lovely shade of deathly-grey… And you know how he likes pretty girls.”

Thinning his lips in irritation, Sam glanced down to the article lying atop his right leg, the one that mentioned a sighting of the third to disappear – a girl who’d been out jogging – the day before she’d been reported as missing.

“In the article on the third one to go missing – a girl called Leslie Whittaker – there are comments from a local lady who said she saw the girl on her own, walking towards the forest the day before. She says, quote, ‘there’s been demons in this town before, leading all the young ones astray. It’s no surprise they’ve come back’.”

“Small minded humans. They’ll blame anything on those things they don’t understand.”

“Sounds like it’s off to the library for you, Sammy,” Dean quipped.

“Yeah, guess so.”

Things went silent for a time as Dean brought them closer to their destination. The imaginary friend in the backseat did little more than hum a tune – the most unobtrusive activity he took part in when in Sam’s immediate vicinity – which he was thankful for, yet agitated about what else the fallen angel had planned. But things stayed calm until they came around a bend in the road, bringing into focus a road sign that introduced the town of Pineville, population… something-or-other illegible. Squinting, Sam stared up ahead, but could barely make out any sign of civilisation no thanks to the thick cover of trees that fenced it all in.

“Ha!” The voice from the backseat began to laugh in earnest. “C’mon, Sam! You’re a clever boy; I know you can see what I see!”

Dean nearly jumped out of his seat when his brother suddenly started chuckling.

“No kidding…”

“Wanna fill me in on this joke I apparently missed, Goliath?” Dean frowned.

“That right there?” Sam pointed to the thick forest that circled the town, shielding it from view like the outer wall of a medieval fortress. “That’s an oak forest, Dean.”

“And?”

“This place is called _Pineville_ ”

Dean snorted. “Go figure. So they got a sense of humour, then.”

“Well, I dunno, it’s kinda weird...” Sam paused as his amusement abruptly ran dry, and he flicked through the news clippings again, extracting a particular article. “It says here that the town was founded on a _pine_ forest, not an oak one. And oaks take a long time to get that big, man.”

“So maybe the pine bit’s on the other side?”

Sam shifted slightly in his seat, his expression tense. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“The main part of the forest is supposed to be on the north side of town. We’re coming in from the west, so we should be able to see it, but all I can see are oaks. Something about that isn’t right.”

“Alrighty, so we’ll check it out. Maybe we’ve got a haunted forest on our hands. That’s something to go on, yeah?”

Sam didn’t look convinced for whatever reason, _but hey_ , Dean thought with a shrug, _that’s what we’re here to find out_.

\---{{--}}---

_So weak._

_So…_

_Need…_

_Need it.  
_

\---{{--}}---

Sam looked up from his laptop as the familiar thudding of his brother’s boots caught his attention. He watched from his table as Dean was greeted by the librarian at the front desk – a pretty, pale-faced brunette with bright blue eyes – who was immediately caught up in his brother’s whirlwind of charm. She nodded earnestly as he said something, the rumbling tone of his voice just barely touching Sam’s ears across the room, though he couldn’t make out the words. 

Not that he’d want to, of course. Over the years he’d heard enough of the shit Dean said to get girls, none of which was the least bit charming in his humble opinion. Yet still, just a ‘line’ or two (and a smile for good measure) and they’d be fawning all over Dean, eyes glittery-bright with arousal and pandering to his every want. Even now, in the middle of the day, not a drop of alcohol involved, the blue-eyed librarian was already teetering on the edge. All it took was another few words of whatever crap he was spouting… and _there_ it was, as the girl pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, her cheeks flushed pink, and her body leaned forward so Dean could see further down her shirt. Just a mere few minutes and she was already _gone_.

 _I dunno what it is, Sammy,_ Dean had said on one occasion a number of years back, though Sam recalls it like it was yesterday, _but I guess I just got blessed with the kinda mojo that gets women all gooey between the legs with nothin’ more than a wink and a smile, and that’s one gift from God I ain’t ever gonna complain ‘bout._

Yeah, typical Dean. Naturally not a single one of them gave a flying fuck about Dean as a person, but it’s not like Dean ever gave much of a shit about them either, so, if nothing else, at least it wasn’t hurting anybody. Too much.

“Honestly, the excuses you guys come up with?” Sam could hear a certain fallen angel behind him, fussing around with some books on a shelf, “It just boggles my mind. I mean, I’ve been able to rationalise a ton of really unrationalisable things in my time, but you two…”

He wasn’t sure what kind of look was plastered on his face, but the moment Dean turned around to face the rest of the room – green eyes still sparking with enticement – and he found Sam’s gaze, all the testosterone-fuelled energy that had been gathering around him up to that point just drained out of him in the blink of an eye. It made Sam shift awkwardly in his seat, and he couldn’t explain why, but then Dean was thoughtlessly waving the girl away and heading over to the desk where he’d been parked for the better part of three hours, printed articles and handwritten notes strewn about like the photocopier had exploded. 

“Hey, so, found anything?”

Sam’s mouth worked, but for a second nothing came out. He wanted so badly to get on his brother’s case – maybe something about flirting on the job again? – but Dean had given him an out, so for now he did the easy thing and took it.

“Yeah, quite a bit actually.”

Hastily he gathered the small stack of notes by his right arm, several post-its sticking out the top and sides marking points of interest.

“The first thing I checked was the trees. This place was definitely founded on a pine forest, it’s documented for miles, and I managed to find an article with some old photos in it from maybe about a hundred-or-so years ago? It was _all_ pine back then. The next photo I found isn’t from until the seventies, and by that time there’s oaks everywhere.” Sam pulled out a photocopied newspaper clipping that showed a photo of a man standing in front of a long line of towering trees – all oaks.

Dean frowned, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “There’s nothing from in between?”

“Nothing that I could find. I even asked a lady that I ran into by the copier and she said that she’s lived here all her life and she never remembers seeing anything _but_ oaks.”

“Something screwy going on there, that’s for sure.”

“I know, right? There’s a connection between that and the disappearances, I’m sure of it, I just haven’t found what it is yet.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Sammy.”

 _You mean, that’s what_ I’m _here for_ , Sam said to himself, pulling out a separate page and slapping it down on the top of his pile. “So here’s the lowdown on the victims, now that I’ve finally managed to rustle up all their names and circumstances with a little help from Bobby – and it wasn’t easy-” 

“Was there hacking involved?”

“Uh, yeah?” Sam gave his brother a pointed look, confused by the unnecessary interruption. 

Dean just grinned. “Awesome.”

“Right… well. Anyway. I guess the police don’t want people panicking before they find out what’s going on, so they’ve kept a lot of the details out of the papers. We know the first missing was Nancy Caldwell, 28, born and raised in Pineville, lives on the outskirts of town. Stopped going to church when she moved out of the family home and apparently a few former friends have voiced their displeasure, loudly, on-”

“Like I’ve said before,” Lucifer lamented from the desk one place over, “Small minded.”

“-more than one occasion. She had a small pharmacy’s worth of vitamins and herbal remedies in her cabinets, and the holes they found in her floor were limited to the kitchen area. They tried putting a scope down to see how deep they were, and got about fifty feet with no end in sight. Second missing was Jake Rodgers, 24, gone without a trace. His apartment – again on the outskirts of town – was left completely open with the TV going and food still in the microwave. He’s been arrested before on possession of narcotic drugs, and they would have thought he’d just skipped town on his own except that they found the same holes in the ground as in Nancy’s house, though this time they were found in the bedroom.”

“That’s new,” Dean noted, “And certainly sounds like our brand of weird. Keep going.”

“Okay, so, third was Leslie Whittaker, 29, last seen out jogging, lives a couple of blocks from Nancy, and one of her neighbours makes frequent complaints to the police about noise late at night. In one of the reports this neighbour says something about praying for the girl’s ‘sin-befouled soul’. I got Bobby to look into that and apparently she was arrested seven years ago a few states over for prostitution, but for whatever reason was never charged.”

“Any floor-holes in her house?”

“Nada. Nothing out of the ordinary found.”

With his thinking face on, Dean kept his restless fingers busy tapping out a rhythm on the wooden table top. “Which would make sense if the holes only appear wherever these people are nabbed from. This girl wasn’t taken from her house.”

“Exactly,” Sam agreed, continuing on without pause. “Then next is Lucinda Markowitz, 25, an artist whose house backs onto a local gallery which she owns and runs. She often leaves town for business so no one thought it weird she was gone, but neighbours got police to check in because some kind of alarm was going off inside, which is how they found the holes in the floor of her bedroom.”

“You think maybe the bodies are getting sucked down there or something?”

“What, into the ground?” Sam’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Through, quote, ‘golf ball-sized holes’?”

Dean threw his hands up. “What, it’s possible! Maybe their bodies get liquefied and something sucks it on down there like a thickshake through a straw.”

“Dude, that is an image I did _not_ need to have. And there goes any appetite I had for lunch.”

“You woulda only had rabbit food anyway – no big loss there, man.”

“Christ, Dean.” Heaving a resigned breath, Sam glanced down at his notes on the most recent two disappearances, where things had started to change. “Right. Number five is our second guy, Trent David-”

“Poor dude has two first names.”

“Yeah, well, he’s only 23 and lives in the flat on top of the auto-shop where he works. There were holes in his bedroom floor despite it being on the second level – the holes went right through from the ceiling below. His girlfriend Katlin Harvey, 22, was found dead on the mattress, no clothes on, and apparently the room reeked of pot and ‘bodily fluids’.”

“Not such a bad way to go…”

“You wanna die in the middle of sex, do you?”

“Sure, so long as I’d gotten off at least once. I’d be totally mellowed-out so I probably wouldn’t give a shit what went down after.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. His brother never ceased to amaze. “Whatever you think. Now, finally, we get to Katja Romanov, 28, who we established earlier had a boyfriend, Wesley, and neighbour, Madge Johnson, now both dead.”

“Right, the tuna bake lady.”

“Yeah, her. So I’ve got next to nothing on this one seeing as it only happened a couple of days ago, and apparently the local police are a little laid back on computerising everything. We’re gonna need to suit up and go visit our friends at the local law enforcement agency.”

Dean stared at him, with a sort of dazed look on his face. “Wowzah. You, actually initiating an illegal act? Is this a first?”

“No, it’s not. And you know it isn’t. Fuck, what is with you today?”

“Meh.” Dean simply shrugged with disinterest. If Sam was being all uptight, that was nothing to do with him, godammit. 

“Dean…” Sam’s fists clenched on top of the table, he was going to get his point across whether Dean liked it or not. “Whatever this thing is it’s escalating. Look, it started off with easy targets, people who were close by and on their own. Then it got stronger, more confident - a guy, then a couple - it’s taking more lives and venturing further from the forest.”

Sam jabbed a finger down at the sparingly-detailed map in front of him. It showed the basic layout of Pineville, the border of the forest that surrounded nearly three-quarters of the town perimeter, and the numbers 1-through-6 were penned down clearly in red marker, indicating where the victims had been taken from. 

Dean could only grunt in agreement. As usual Sam was right; the disappearances were occurring further and further within the town and the body count was getting higher. They needed to do something fast but they still had almost no clue what they were dealing with - sure, there was obviously some kind of paranormal shit going down around the forest, but whether it _was_ the forest, or just something _in_ the forest... Well, they couldn’t really do jack-shit until they figured that one out.

“What do you suggest, then? We can go get these case notes, but if they’re as vague as what you and Bobby have already found it’s as good as nothin’. We need to talk with the families and check out the houses, see these ‘holes’. But honestly, I dunno what good it’s gonna do, I ain’t ever heard of anything like this.”

“Yeah, well…” Sam swallowed and looked away, hesitating. He’d come upon another option whilst he’d been researching any weird happenings in the area, but it wasn’t something his brother was going to take to lightly, he knew that for sure. “Dean, there’s a local psychic woman that—”

“No fuckin’ way, Sammy.” Dean suddenly banged his hands down on the desk, clearly forgetting he was in a library. “I refuse to deal with anymore psychic bitches – we’ve had some piss-weak luck with them in case you’ve forgotten, and I’m not taking any more chances.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down his irritation. “Look, she gets quoted by the newspapers around here a lot and it looks like the police here have even consulted with her on cases before. I think we should talk to her at least, maybe she knows some local lore that would be useful to us. We’ve already got three dead bodies; we need to do whatever we can to prevent that from climbing up to four or five.”

Dean’s lips were pressed thin, but after a moment his shoulders dropped and he simply nodded reluctantly.

“Aw, he tries so hard for you Sam. It’s adorable, really,” Lucifer cooed in the background.

“I know we’ve had some shit experiences before, but we’re not dealing with angels or demons this time so… I just think we should question her at some point, okay? If she doesn’t check out we can leave.”

“Fine.”

Without a word, Dean slid out of his seat on the opposite side of the desk, turned on his heel and stomped off. 

“Poor Sam, all alone again. And the two of you – moping like a couple of teenage girls. But seriously, you should just fuck him already and get it over with, the tension’s killing me. How long’s it been since the last time, hmm? He wouldn’t have touched you without your soul ‘cause he’s such a moralistic sucker like that, so it’s been at least two years topside, right? Though, with the way you two carry on… I’m betting it’s much longer than that, isn’t it? And I’m pretty sure Dean-o’s gagging for it even more than you are, and that’s saying something.”

“Fuck you,” Sam breathed, his head dropping down and landing in the cradle of his hands. He generally managed to keep up the façade of sanity when Dean was around, but when he was gone and the mask slipped, the exhaustion and despair seeped in with all the subtlety of a bucket of ice tossed down the back of his shirt. Lucifer plucking at sore spots and old wounds didn’t help either.

“No, Sam. Your brother. Fuck your _brother_.” The fallen angel snickered to himself, circling the table where Sam sat and stopping to hover over his shoulder. “Much as I’m flattered that you’d think of me – we did have such fun together down in the pit, after all – but considering my current incorporeal-ness… I guess it was just never meant to be. Shame… Anyway, I know you want to, and I’m just dying to watch.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” The words came out muffled from behind the expanse of Sam’s hands.

“Oh, come now, Sam. You know how much of a generous and caring guy I am, how sensitive I am to your needs – I could never leave you alone.”

 

\---{{--}}---

“Hi, we’re agents Townshend and Daltrey with the FBI.” Dean flashed his badge with a flirtatious grin, leaning on the front counter and edging his way forward towards the buxom redhead manning the phones. “We’ve come to check out your disappearing persons problem.”

The woman – ‘Christie’ was the name on her I.D. badge – returned the smile and picked up the handset in front of her. “Why don’t you just have a seat over there, handsome, and I’ll call the Captain for you.”

Dean spun around with a sly expression and dragged an irritated looking younger brother over to the plastic chairs in the corner. “Now there’s a lady who knows how to make a guy feel good.”

“Yeah, with her chest maybe.”

The retort was wiped clean off Dean’s lips when a gruff looking man with a salt-and-pepper beard stomped his way over to them, holding out his hand without preamble.

“Took you boys long enough to get here. We’ve been waiting for the Bureau to send someone down for near two weeks already!”

“Ha! Checkout this pushover, trying to act all tough-nut agro-cop. Cute.” Lucifer pat the Captain on the face before stepping into the reception area, fiddling noisily with the pens and paper littering the desktop.

“Uh, we’re sorry to have kept you, Sir,” Sam stepped forward with his hand out ready to shake in response, working his magic to smooth things over, “I’m Agent Daltrey, this is my partner Agent Townshend. We’ve been sent down from the Chicago office since they couldn’t get anyone closer.”

“Hmm, well alright then. Let’s get straight down to business, shall we? I’m Captain Sanderson, but everyone calls me Chief. Let me show you t’ my office and we can get crackin’.”

The fallen angel plopped himself down into the spare wheely-chair beside Christie, swinging about a moment and then carelessly hefting his feet up onto the desk. “I’m just gonna hang out with doll-face here while you boys go talk shop.”

The brothers followed the heavy-set man into the closet he called his office, each of them dropping precariously down onto some very hazardous looking plastic chairs. 

“So, you boys been briefed at all?” Chief wasted no time in getting things started, “These kids seem to be disappearin’ faster every time so we wanna put a stop to it quick smart.”

“Understandable,” Dean piped in, utilising his time-perfected ‘cop’ voice. “And we’ve got the basics down – six missing, three dead, no evidence except a few holes in the ground.”

“Yeah, it’s a curly one alright. Still ain’t got a clue what those holes are ‘bout. We even had a ranger come in an’ take a look but best he came up with was a nest of mutated, ground-dwelling anacondas. Honestly that’s probably the most rational theory we’ve had and that’s saying somethin’.”

“Have you looked at any suspects so far?”

“Not a one. Nancy was the first to go and she’s always been a bit, y’know, _odd_ , so thinkin’ she’d gone wandering wasn’t too far of a stretch. Then once Jake’d gone and we decided he hadn’t done a runner, we started to wonder if we might have a bear on the loose. We ruled that out pretty quick, so started lookin’ at anyone local who might’ve had one of those ‘mental breaks’, y’know? When they suddenly go all crazy-like? But we came up empty there, too. So now all we’re left with is something – some _one_ \- from outta town preyin’ on us small town folk.”

Dean nodded sagely as though in the middle of deep thought – his ‘I’m-a-serious-FBI-agent-and-I’m-your-last-hope’ act was making a killing on this gullible oaf of a Captain, not that it was a problem considering how convenient it was for them. But Sam had seen that look a hundred times over and in his eyes it only got progressively more ridiculous. One of these days he was going to burst out laughing and wouldn’t _that_ be fun to explain.

“Well, we’d like to check out your reports and get a look at the bodies, maybe see the most recent scene as well. We need to get as much of a feel for this scumbag as possible, get into his head and all that. If we can work out his intentions, maybe we can take a guess at where he’ll hit next.”

Chief tapped his pen against his chin, clearly biting at every scrap of shit Dean was feeding him. “Yeah, I see what you’re getting’ at.” 

“You would’ve been to all the abduction sites, right?” Sam posed the question suddenly – there was no way he was going to let Dean do all the talking. “Was there anything you’d say was particularly strange about any of them? Electrical faults? Problems with the air conditioning? Strange smells?”

The cop thought for a moment, considering everything the two ‘agents’ said with the utmost seriousness. “Nah, I don’t reckon there was. But look, there ain’t much else I can tell you that’s not already in the case notes so I’ll get Christie at the front desk to make you copies ‘fore you go. And she can tell you how to get to the coroner’s as well – though you’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow. The Doc shuts up shop ‘bout four so you’ll have missed him for today.”

“Thanks Chief,” Sam offered his hand again, eagerly rising from the crappy chair and instead leaning over the captain’s crappy table. “You’ve been a big help.”

“No worries, boys. I’ll let you know if anything new comes in.”

Armed with a copy of the case files, directions to the coroner’s office and Christie’s phone number, Dean lead the way out of the station and back to the Impala. 

“So, you think he’s gonna call her, Sam?” Lucifer hovered around Sam’s left ear and he flicked his hand up as though swatting at a mosquito. “I mean, it’s not like she was subtle about it, but your brother does seem to prefer when they put it all out there… And she _did_ have a lot to put out there, I must say. ”

Sam flicked his hand again, harder. But Lucifer merely sashayed around to his right side instead. “Maybe he’ll take her out, but I think we can bank on them ending up in the bedroom pretty quick, don’t you? And he is going to have _so_ much fun with that body of hers, playing her like a violin til she sings…”

Adjusting his course, Sam took the long way back to the car, attempting to sidestep his shadow before he could clamp back onto his ear again. Of course, doing such a thing only made Lucifer all the more creative and determined.

“Would you follow them, Sam? Follow them all the way back to her place and then watch while Dean fucked her? I bet you would, and you’d hate yourself for it like the pitiful, denial-ridden thing you are, but you still wouldn’t look away, would you? And then you would imagine that it was you on that bed with him instead of that redheaded slut with the uber-boobs. Tell me, whose position would you rather be in? My guess? I bet you’d wanna be on top, so you could push your brother down right where you want him, force him onto his knees-”

“I wouldn’t,” Sam whispered sternly under his breath, though he didn’t believe it for a second.

“No, of _course_ -”

“So, Sammy.”

Sam whipped around to face his brother, startled out of his ‘internal’ argument. 

“The Doc’s apparently left for home already. What’s say we indulge in a little harmless B-&-E, get us a look at those bodies?”

“Uh, sure, man. Ready when you are.”

Half an hour later saw them snapping on some latex gloves and sliding three metal slabs out into the open, setting the deceased under the muted light of the single examination room. Dean switched on a lamp and pulled the sheet back on one of the bodies, giving a rudimentary once-over looking for any strange anomalies, while his younger brother skimmed the coroner’s (thankfully typed) reports.

“Well?” Dean prompted.

“Well, basically, he has no idea. I mean, these two are from the scene of Katja’s disappearance which was only a couple of days ago, so some of the tests aren’t complete yet. But the girl – Katlin Harvey – she’s been here not-quite ten days, and still he’s only gotten as far as labelling her C.O.D. as inconclusive. Not surprising though, considering the combination of partial exsanguination, blood toxicity and some kind of lesion in her brain? I don’t know, sounds like total overkill to me and in the report he’s pretty vague about it…”

“So she’s had some blood sucked out, been poisoned, and something’s fucked up in her head.”

“Something like that. Though there’s no way to tell whether these were all caused by the same thing, or if one or more of them were used to try and cover up the other.” Sam sighed, looking over the examination report more carefully. “She had traces of THC in her system but when you’re 22 and living in a small town… Hey, Dean, check out her hands and chest – apparently she’s got some kind of wounds there.”

At Sam’s suggestion, Dean leaned over to the first slab and moved the sheet back enough that he could lift the girl’s hand, rotating the arm so he could get a good look at her palm.

“Look, there. It looks like some kind of puncture in the middle of her hand.”

Sam bowed in closely. “And there, on her neck – tiny little dots like she was stuck with a needle.”

“Fucking _dozens_ of needles more like.” Frowning, Dean stood back. “So was the missing blood sucked out, then? I mean, with holes that small it seems like more trouble than it’s worth. But it’s not like they look like teeth marks either… What do y’ reckon? Some kind of spine-thing? ‘Cause hey, at least that’s somethin’ we’ve seen before.” Dean stuck his hands on his hips and did a lap of the exam room, but when Sam still hadn’t responded by the time he’d returned to his starting point he prodded a second time. “So, are we dealing with a fucking man-size porcupine, here? Or just some sicko with a needle fetish tryin’ out some freaky experiment?”

“Well,” Sam finally shifted his focus away from the body, “If it _was_ caused by a human, the puncture in her hand is certainly big enough for a tube to go in, so she could have been drained that way. Except to put it in her hand is just weird. Someone with enough knowledge to go about getting a tube into a vein would know better than to stick it in through that location, it’s just too troublesome. But if it’s a some _thing_ rather than a some _one_ … Then, sure, why not? Porcupine is the best we got.”

“Ooh, c’mon, Sam. Man-sized porcupine? Have a little creativity for the love of _God_!” Lucifer snorted and then cackled to himself. “Honestly it’s a shame my audience is limited to the grand count of one, because I’m just so _God damn_ hilarious I could cry.”

“We should call Bobby and get him to add this to his list of shit to check out.”

“Good idea,” Sam agreed and pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket, eager for a reason to keep his mind otherwise occupied. “I got it.”

Bobby picked up on the second ring. “What now?”

“We’re at the coroner’s right now, looking at the bodies.”

Sam could hear the older man flipping through book pages while he spoke. “Anything conclusive?”

“Seriously, the more we find out, the more _in_ conclusive everything is.”

“Yeah, tell me ‘bout it,” Bobby drawled, clearly unimpressed. “And I got jack shit on this end for ya. I guess it could be some kinda possession thing? Goin’ after bodies of a certain age? Then there’s always the possibility it’s some god who’s got ‘is own agenda. But what’s really buggin’ me is these hole-things they keep findin’ in the floors. All I can think is that it’s some kinda new, undetermined big bad, but with tentacles.”

“Great,” Sam sighed, “Well, what we got is puncture wounds – pea-sized on the hands, and needle-fine on the neck. There’s only one semi-finished report, and it’s a blood loss, poison and brain injury combo.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Sam, that makes no sense at all.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam echoed.

“All right then,” Boddy sighed, “I’ll keep diggin’, but my best guess is still some kinda spirit possession – it’s the only thing that might be able to transform that fast. Let’s not even think ‘bout it bein’ some fancy new thing.”

“Gotcha. Thanks Bobby.” Sam hung up and turned to face his brother, who was already watching him with the answers all over his face.

“Nothin’?”

“Yep, nothin’.”

“So?”

“We go back to the motel, sleep on it, and check out the abduction sites in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Together they moved to return the bodies from whence they came, and fix the room back to how it had been when they’d arrived. Dean tore off his gloves and threw them in the clinical waste bin before heading out into the hallway, and Sam attempted to do the same but came up short when Lucifer appeared again, blocking his route to the bin.

“So. You’re going to ‘sleep on it’?”

Tensing his jaw, Sam remained silent, not wanting to give in to the apparition and his ongoing taunts.

“Wouldn’t you rather sleep on your brother?” Lucifer sniggered, his hands reaching out towards the younger Winchester, “Honestly, you should just surrender already. You know I’m like one of those hyperactive little dogs, the yappy ones, I’m just gonna keep pestering until you agree to play with me. And you _know_ how much I love to play, Sam. After all, we got to play together for over a hundred and fifty years, don’t you remember?”

\---{{--}}---

“Dude, what’s up with you?”

Dean sat up on his bed but didn’t turn the light on, leaving them in the half-light of the motel room – the streetlight outside hanging just over their window.

“Nothing. Sorry. Just a headache.”

“Yeah, my ass,” Dean grunted. “You’ve been tetchy all day, and don’t pretend like you haven’t – taking the long way ‘round to the car and then taking too long back at the morgue… Got the devil on your shoulder again, huh?”

“I…” Sam heaved a sigh and turned his face further into the pillow. For all that Lucifer had earlier compared himself to one of those ‘yappy dogs’, Dean could be comparably persistent. “He’s just been a bit more talkative today, that’s all. Really, nothing to bother about.”

“The things you say,” The fallen angel tsk-ed in displeasure, “I could almost think you hate me.”

Sam couldn’t help but snort in response.

“Annnd he’s still here, isn’t he?”

“He’s here more often than not – I’ve said that before.” Sam muttered into the lumpy cotton of his motel pillow, “I have to wonder how co-dependent he must be, to stick around so much…”

“Well, what’s he sayin’ that’s getting under your skin so bad? I know you, I know you think you hide it all pretty well, and usually you do, but today you’ve been doing a piss-poor job of it so he must’ve struck a nerve somewhere.”

“It’s _nothing_ , Dean. Let it go.”

But he knew Dean wouldn’t. And though it went silent for a while, Sam could sense that his brother hadn’t moved an inch, was still sitting up on the mattress watching him – he could practically feel the tension from all the way over in his own bed.

“It’s something about me,” he stated out of the blue, not even questioning the fact, “You wouldn’t be so quiet otherwise.”

“Well, hey, seeing as you’re so sure,” Sam snapped back.

“Don’t be a bitch, Sammy. Is he givin’ me hell ‘bout my shitty taste in music? My pretty face? That I’m an easy lay? My forty-year vacation downstairs, even. Just fuckin’ tell me already. I even promise not to give you shit about it.”

“Aw, Dean-o,” Lucifer chirped, “He’s so cute when he’s being feisty. But look, he’s giving you a free pass, you should totally take it. Seriously. I really want to see how this pans out – indulge me, Sam.”

Sam could’ve cried. “I can’t, Dean.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean huffed, exasperated, “What kinda shit could he possibly have on me that would get you so worked up you couldn't even repeat it back?”

God, his brother was so full of himself. Sam hid a laugh in the cushioning of his pillow. “Who said it was about what he’s got on _you_?”

And then he heard the inhalation from behind, just the one intake of breath that was slightly sharper than the others, and Sam cursed himself to realise that he’d said those last few words out loud.

“What do you mean what he’s got on you? The demon blood, Ruby, kick-starting the apocalypse, all the fucked-up shit you did without a soul – he should know everything already, and have exploited it to the fullest.” The words practically rushed out of Dean’s mouth until he forced himself to stop and take a breath. “You were down in the pit with him for that long and you still managed to keep something from him? How is that even possible…”

“Ooh,” Lucifer chortled with glee, “Only the biggest, baddest secret of them all~!”

“It was…” Sam hesitated, but gave in and sat himself upright. “At the time it was something that could have been mistaken for something else. So I got away with it.”

Dean stared at him through the near-dark as though he’d grown another head. “You… got away with it… with _Lucifer_.”

“Well, not any more, obviously.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam.”

The fallen angel snorted. “Not exactly.”

“Shut up already,” Sam hissed under his breath, trying to throw the sound over his shoulder but he should have known better than to think his brother wouldn’t catch it.

“Still bothering you, man?”

Sam looked up when he felt the sudden dip in the mattress, finding Dean sitting not even an arm’s length away. His face looked strange in the oddly-shaped streams of light that fell through the window, catching his nose and chin from the side. But Sam knew that face from every angle, knew what the shadows were hiding, and knew that despite the tricks that the devil liked to pull on him, this body in front of him was no façade. Dean was right there in one of his unrelenting moods, and Sam knew he was going to have to start talking, but found he just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We know everything about each other, don’t we?” Dean began in his place. “Demons, Hell, souls, angels – we’ve been through it all and come out the other side. What could you possibly bring up that would shock me so bad?”

“Dean, please-”

“I’m gonna have to guess, is that it?” 

He looked at Sam as though he had it all figured out already. And shit, maybe he did. The very thought scared Sam shitless.

“It is something to do with me, I know that.”

Dean scratched behind his ear and then paused a moment in thought.

“It can’t be anything to do with the job ‘cause he’d know that already.”

He swallowed. “So it’s something to do with us personally… which really only leaves one thing.”

“Don’t say it,” Sam pleaded.

“Fine. But I’m right, aren’t I.”

“…Mostly.”

“So,” Dean reached forward and placed a hesitant hand on his brother’s thigh, only the threadbare fabric of the crappy hotel sheets preventing a more intimate kind of contact, though the material was warm against his skin. “You still wanna… touch and… do _that_ with me… That’s what it’s about, yeah?”

“God, yes,” Sam nearly choked on his own breath – ‘touch’ was an understatement of the highest order. He wanted to touch and kiss and fuck – no, make love – and be near him and hold him all the time and just get so fucking far inside his brother that he could curl up in a ball and stay there, drowning in the shelter of his warmth. Sam cringed internally at just how much he sounded like a lovesick teenage girl, yet had to concede that at least he was being honest about it for once. With the way Lucifer hung around, it was usually necessary to keep such thoughts and feelings wrapped up and bottled tight – though of course, it had been proven many times over that that didn’t always work.

“I thought-” Dean moved to pull away, but Sam’s hand took hold of his wrist and held it down, “-after last time there was no way we’d ever even _talk_ about that again, let alone anything else. I said - _did_ \- some real fuckin’ douchebag things to you.”

“I know, but… It was my fault, too,” Sam confessed, “I was scared and insecure about it… Though, deep down I knew I always wanted it. I just… had to figure out how to let myself want it. After all the fucked up shit that could possibly happen _did_ happen, it was just one step too far and I couldn’t take it and I freaked.”

“Yeah, I know what y’ mean. I’m sure you recall how I flipped-out, too. Just…those kinds of thoughts. I always bury them so deep I sometimes forget what they look and feel like. And I let the what-ifs get a hold of me instead – they run wild and I can’t always control how I react.”

Lucifer grunted from across the room, clearly bored and unamused. “Well, isn’t this sweet. Little Dean-o’s got some confessions to get off his chest before he can bend over. Pigs are surely flying. What’d he say anyway? Call you a fag or something? I bet that really hurt, didn’t it, Sammy?”

Sam tried to stop to stop the ache from showing on his face, but his brother simply knew him too well. “It doesn’t matter anymo-”

“Fuck you, of course it matters. And whatever crap that motherfuckin’ angel is sayin’, you gotta stop letting it get under your skin, you’re stronger than that.” Dean grabbed his arm and hauled him up until Sam plunged straight into the soothing warmth of his brother’s bare chest. “I mean, I… Let’s forget that night ever happened, okay? We both said and did things we regret. We were tired, angry and in pain and probably doing everything for the wrong reasons.”

“Ooh, I get it now,” the fallen angel purred, sounding interested again. “Dear brother got a bit rough with you, didn’t he? Poor Dean, did he manage to get his dick in before you nixed it? Left him blue-balling? Worst thing you could do to a guy, really. But you’re such a dirty little tease, aren’t you Sammy… Tell me, was it your first time letting him fuck you?”

Sam’s head was shaking in earnest. He was barely even conscious of still being wrapped in his brother’s arms. “No no no, it wasn't like that at all – you’ve got it all wrong!”

“Dude, what-… No, don’t listen to him. Stay here with me, Sam, don’t go getting caught up in his bullshit.”

“Aw, really? Are you sure? So little Sammy didn’t push his big brother away? No, course he didn’t. Because you’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you? Even let him fuck you when you didn’t even want it, right? Did you still get hard, Sam? Did Dean get pissy when you couldn’t get it up?”

“I always wanted it!” Turning further into his brother’s chest, Sam squeezed his eyes shut against the threatening tears. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you Dean? You’d never hurt me – not really.”

“Sam, what…” Dean stiffened when he realised what his brother was getting at. “But I did hurt you. And I was so angry at myself – that’s why I acted that way. You get that, right? I’m supposed to protect you and I failed. It’s another thing I’ve buried way down, but I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

“Honestly, I’m just too clever for my own good. Though, it was hardly the greatest of mental leaps, was it? After all, how _does_ a guy deal with wanting to screw around with his own blood? It’s not like there’s a handbook on it… but give it a few – there seems to be a handbook on just about everything else,” the angel scoffed, “Except that it’d probably be more in the vein of ‘how to credibly convince yourself that you don’t want to fuck someone who was born of the same womb as you’, am I right? You humans are so caught up in your taboos sometimes, its grating. Your petty offenses and your hang-ups about who you get naked with… So absurd.”

“I’ve learned my lesson, I promise you. I’ll never hurt you like that again, Sammy. These years that I’ve gone without touching you, that’s been torture enough in itself.”

“I wish you had, anyway,” Sam whimpered, “God, I wish you had.”

“Oh, please,” Lucifer drawled, his mood having changed again and now hovering somewhere between irritation and impatience. “All this angst is driving me to the brink of hostility. Let’s get back to the fact that Dean roughed you up, shall we? Really Sam, letting him go on feeling sorry for himself is just cruel – you should tell him that you prefer it that way. You should tell him how, with a little help, you’ve discovered your inner masochist. He’s a coarse kinda guy; I bet he’d love it.”

Sam clasped at Dean’s arm. “I needed you. I still need you.”

“Go on, Sam. Tell him how your buddy Luce learned to play your body like a virtuoso, how he took the time to map every spot of pleasure and pain you possess, how he so blurred the lines between the two that you forgot how to distinguish them.”

The fallen angel had been gradually drawing ever closer to the side of the bed, and was now near enough that he was able to kneel down by it, lean forward atop the mattress and utter into Sam’s ear.

“You should tell him how often I got to play with you, tease you, bring you to breaking point – I bet he’d be jealous. And you know, now I think about it, no matter how long you two butt-monkeys manage to survive in this world, Dean will never have you for as long as I did.”

Dean yelped and Sam jumped in surprise, the sharp sound startling him from his trance. Glancing down to where his brother was pulling at his hand, Sam could see the reddened divots he’d left Dean’s bicep, gripping so hard it would likely be colourfully bruised by the morning.

“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s okay.”

Forcing himself to take steady breaths, Sam let himself go limp as his brother manoeuvred them both back down to the bed, Sam on his side and Dean on his back, just the one of his arms bridging the gap to lie across his big brother’s waist.

“Talk to me, Sammy. Yes, for once in my life I’m actually asking you to lay out your shit for me and I’m gonna listen to every goddamn word you say.”

“Dean, this probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Maybe. But I figure the more you tell me, the less ammunition he’s got. And like you said, this case we’re on, it’s not gonna be easy. You need your head in the game – we both do – so you’ve gotta get back in control, and me, I’d rather not be worrying about your mental state twenty four-seven.”

Exhaling slowly, Sam admitted he was going to have to concede this one. Things continuing the way they were was going to get him a one way ticket on the crazy train and not much else, and he was already fucked enough in the head, he didn’t need any more help – not from the case, not from Dean, especially not from Lucifer. That said, the angel was always going to keep finding ways to hit him where it hurt. Perhaps with Dean’s help he’d be able to overcome it on this occasion, but there would always be a next time and a next weak point the devil could needle him with. Eventually he was going to slip. And when he fell-

“Lucifer, he…”

He felt more than heard the possessive growl that rumbled its way around Dean’s chest, the tension in his body was obvious even through their one point of contact – Sam’s fingers resting on the edge of his brother’s ribcage.

“He says things. All the time. He’s always talking, singing, making comments. It’s pretty much impossible to block it out completely, though most of the time I can ignore it.”

“But?” Dean prompted.

“But, sometimes he says things that I can’t not listen to.” Moving his hand, Sam grabbed for Dean’s, lacing their fingers together. He held back a smile when his brother made no further protest. “He’s been reminding me of some things lately. Like how I actually feel about you. Like how long it’s been since we did things… I hid that part of me so well even _I_ forgot about it. Until he dug it up… It only happened recently. But he finds out everything in the end, I guess.”

“Go on, Sam. Tell him what he needs to hear. Get to the good bit, already.”

“I want you to fuck me, Dean. I need you to erase him from the inside, make me forget he was ever there, that I was ever not yours.”

“ _What_?”

“Please, Dean. It’s gotta be you.” 

“You- he-… Please, no.”

“I never wanted you to know what went on down there. But it was so long… Inevitable that those kinds of ammunition would come up at some point, right? It was just another way for him to manipulate my body and chip away a little deeper into my mind.”

It took time for Dean to simmer down, but after a few deep breaths he did eventually, and he waited until his rage had steadied before he spoke again. Sam was giving him space to get a foot in the door, but he wasn’t going to go rushing in guns blazing like he usually did. He wasn’t going to ruin this chance to reel his little brother back in close, where he should have been all along. “Is he still here now?”

“I can’t see him, but that usually just means he’s hiding away somewhere, still listening.” He could see Dean’s throat bob as he swallowed, and knew there was a comment coming, one that he wouldn’t like. So he jumped in before it got that far. “Dean, until I find a way to either contain him or get him out of me, that’s the best it’s gonna get.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he nodded, squeezing the hand still in his grasp. Slowly he relaxed, and reaching out he pulled their bodies close, knees and elbows knocking together, both inhaling from the same capsule of air.

“So, I, um-”

“Shh,” Dean dragged Sam’s hand down his body, relishing the feel of those familiar fingers catching on the bumps of his ribcage, the cut of his hips and the crease of where his leg met his body. “You don’t want this?” Dean guided his brother’s hand back against his hole, Sam instinctively fingering the soft furl of skin.

“Nuh, I want you inside me this time. I want you to scrape all those memories away, burn them down to ash so they won’t come back.” Sam’s breath hitched when he felt Dean’s cock twitch against his arm, breath puffing over the skin of his shoulder.

Suddenly Sam found himself pushed flat on his back, green eyes hovering above. It was an unconscious thing that his legs parted the way they did, and his brother’s hips slotted smoothly into the gap like a puzzle piece fitting into place. 

“If you insist.”

 

\---{{--}}---

_So tired…_

_Need… must…_

_Must feed… so… so…_

_Hungry._

_Can taste it. So close._

\---{{--}}---

 

Pulling his phone from his jacket, Sam pressed the first speed-dial and - much to his relief - his brother picked up on the first ring.

“Dude, you get anything?”

“Dean, I’ve just finished checking out the Markowitz house-slash-gallery. It’s the same as the others, it happened in a hurry and everything’s been left as it was. No EMF reading, no sulphur, no cold patches, no ectoplasm – nothing.”

“Same here,” Dean grunted with annoyance, “I’m still in the Romanov place and I got a big nada on the weird-o-meter. Well, mostly. I found holes out on the front porch where they found tuna-bake lady, and more in the bedroom where the boyfriend was. The girl must’ve been taken from one of those places ‘cause I didn’t find any others. Oh, but I did uncover what a kinky lady this Katja must be – there were handcuffs hanging on the bedframe and several bottles of different flavoured lube on the night stand. There’s somethin’ to be said for variety, man.”

“Dean, I-” Sam hesitated, wondering if he was seeing things where there was nothing to be seen. He had a theory, but with the evidence they had so far it was a bit of a long shot. Yet it was the only thing connecting the majority of the victims – the first woman was the singular exception.

His brother’s voice softened. “What is it, Sam?”

“Uh. Nothing, nothing. Don’t wor-”

“Please, spare me.”

He stopped, then swallowed. And ploughed on. “I’ve got a theory. It’s a little shaky but…”

“Spit it out, boy-genius.”

“It’s all to do with sexual energy,” Sam expelled in a rush, “It was present at all the abduction sites except the first – Jake Rogers and then Trent David and his girl were all getting high and getting off, Leslie Whittaker is supposedly a hooker so god knows what she was up to, Katja was apparently into something kinky with her boyfriend, and Lucinda Markowitz is an artist with a penchant for erotic photography.”

Dean was silent for an extended moment. “You sure you’re not reading into this too much, man? Your imaginary friend ain’t screwin’ with you or anything? I mean, they’re all in their twenties, right? It makes perfect sense that they’re making good on the best years of their life – I know I sure did.”

“Dude, not every twenty-something in the world is as much of a horn-dog as you were. Or, correction, _still are_.”

“Hey, calm down there, Sasquatch. I’ve been a good boy lately, thanksverymuch.”

“Whatever you say. _Anyway_ , I still think there’s something there. I’ve just… got a hunch.”

“Hmm, yeah, but… what about the tuna-bake lady? She wasn’t even inside the house.”

“So? Maybe she came to the door, Katja and Wesley are having a screaming match of the good kind, she listens in for a bit, gets a little excited-”

“Dude, do _not_ say shit like that when I’m in hearing range. Those kinda thoughts can mess a guy up.”

Sam smiled innocently. “I’m just throwin’ some hypotheticals at you. Nothing messy about it.”

“Right,” Dean huffed, “So, what now?”

Humming in thought, Sam crossed the floor of Lucinda’s bedroom, scrutinising the pile of art and photography supplies that littered her desk and chairs. He’d been over it already, sure, but there was just something he was missing, he was certain of it.

“What’d you find? I know that tone of humming and it usually means something’s on your mind.”

Dean’s voice crackled as it passed through the phone speaker, meaning one of them was probably in a bad reception area again – though, this town seemed to be full of ‘bad areas’. Just their luck.

“I’m just wondering if it’s possible that two people were taken from this place.”

“Two?” Dean cleared his voice comically. “But Agent Winchester, that would mean the un-sub’s broken pattern. Do you think we’ve got him spooked?”

“Fuck you, too,” Sam joked back. “I’m just looking at all her equipment and some of it looks like it was used but not put away. And going by the rest of the house this girl seems like a bit of a neat-freak, so I’m thinking there was either someone else here with her or they’d only just left when she was taken – the holes are around the art stuff, not the bed…”

“What makes you think someone else had to be there? …Sam?”

“You should check out the way the wood’s splintered around the holes,” Lucifer muttered aloud, his legs tucked up underneath him where he sat on the bed, “Might be relevant, Princess.”

“Sam? Dude, are you listening or just wasting my phone credit?”

Sam shook himself out of his distraction, focussing back on his brother’s voice. “That particular phone’s on a plan, under the name of Mister Barrington Dartmore, no less. And yeah, I’m listening, but something just occurred to me.”

“Which is?”

“These holes – I didn’t notice it at any of the other places but the debris from the floorboards being broken is on the inside, which means whatever is making them is definitely coming from _underneath_ , inside the earth. The Chief’s comment about mutated, ground-dwelling anacondas may not be so far wrong.”

Over the line Dean sighed, and Sam could imagine the creases deepening in his forehead as he frowned, his fingers pressing on either side of his chin the way he always did when he was thinking too hard. They’d spent all of last night and the morning twisted up in each other’s bodies, but already he was feeling the withdrawal of separation – despite Dean being only a few blocks and a phone call away.

“Right. Good work then, 99.”

Lucifer howled. “Fiiine, take the credit for my superior detective skills.”

“But let’s just stop for a minute, just think,” Dean went on, his lighter tone indicating he was onto something, “What would we find in the ground if we looked?”

Sam paused. “It could be some kind of creature that burrows its way around? That would take a lot of time though, and some of the houses are pretty far apart… There’s worms down there, and bugs-”

“Don’t even fucking say that word, man. If this is all from bugs I’m goddamn leaving and someone else can take care of it.”

“Uh, right. Well.” Sam gestured to no one in particular, trying to get his brain working. “There could be an underground reservoir – plenty of room for things to hang around in down there – then there’s the dirt itself, tree roots and other plant matter, for all we know there could have been people or ruins buried under the town centuries back.”

Dean swallowed audibly. “Sam, when we were driving into this hellhole, what was the one thing you couldn’t stop yammering on about?”

His eyes widened in realisation. “The trees.”

“Yeah, the fucking trees. Now, hold that thought, Sherlock. We’ve got some families to interview first before we go bush bashing. You take the ones in walking distance and I’ll drive to the ones across town. Call me if you get anything.”

“Gotcha.”

Sam ended the call and pulled out the list of carelessly scrawled names and addresses from his pocket. Usually he and Dean did this together, and the ache of being even temporarily separated was like a sharp pang in his chest, but there were simply too many names on their list and splitting up was their only option to cut down on the time.

It took several long and arduous hours, but he finally made his way through question time with Jake Rogers’ long-suffering grandmother, Katja Romanov’s barely English-speaking parents, and Trent David’s mother and older brother, each to varying degrees of awkwardness and overly-emotional stress.

Unfortunately, none of them brought up anything of note with relation to the case, only that their missing family members were good people with plenty to live for. Sam wished he could have comforted them more, but the thought merely drew him to despair – they had no clue what _precisely_ they were dealing with, nor how to kill it, and there was no way of knowing for sure if any of the missing people were still alive, let alone where they were being kept.

It was all hanging precariously on the edge of the too-hard basket. Usually they had something by this stage, even a simple working theory or an idea of where to search, but this goddamn town and it’s goddamn secrets were so far evading them spectacularly.

That was, until he finally came to question Martha Caldwell, the mother of their first missing person, Nancy. She was soft-spoken, and clearly quite depressed, but she had perked up momentarily when she realised the FBI was now involved in the case, and she answered all of Sam’s questions without complaint. The information he gathered was all quite ordinary and unexciting, but there was a singular fact that had Sam’s stomach fluttering with enthusiasm, something that altered his earlier theory and put a slightly new spin on things.

Leaving the Caldwell household, Sam fumbled and nearly dropped his phone before he finally got it up to his ear, listening to the dial tone and only exhaling once he heard the click of Bobby answering the call. He explained his theory in full, and the older man grunted and grumbled through most of the conversation, but agreed that Sam’s idea was as good as any, and at least provided a possible motivation for their still-unknown entity.

Hanging up he then dialled his brother, eager to know if he’d had more luck. Dean answered with a glum-sounding ‘hey’, so Sam knew straight away he’d gotten nowhere.

“Dean, I think I got something. I just spoke to Nancy Caldwell’s mother. She had a long-term boyfriend who travels for his work. He—”

“You think he’s got something to do with it?”

“No, he was in New York at the time, the mother swears to it. But the thing is she was a bit of a loner around here otherwise, so the fact that she was noticed as missing that quickly was pure chance, and in even bigger news – apparently she was six months pregnant.”

“Oh, fucking Christ. That can’t be good.”

“Babies! Oh, I just _love_ babies!”

Sam winced at the glee in Lucifer’s voice, but forced himself to focus. “While this doesn’t fit my sexual energy theory, I’m wondering if maybe it’s _reproductive_ energy we’re looking at instead. It still fits in with all the specifically sexual incidents, as well as including Nancy’s pregnancy. I already called Bobby and relayed all this so he’s looking into it, but he was as stumped as I was.”

“Sammy,” Dean grumbled, “Much as I hate to say it, I think now might be a good time to pay that psychic chick a visit.”

“I’m not sure I’d call her a ‘chick’, Dean. She’s in her seventies.”

\---{{--}}---

_Oh, yes…_

_Yes, so…_

_So soft._

_Soft flesh._

_Ripe._

_So hungry…_

\---{{--}}---

“Oh, you must be the Winchester brothers! Come in, come in! My, look how handsome you both are. My Robert always used to curse me and his father for giving him the ‘short gene’ but not everyone can be blessed with such great heights!”

The two brothers gulped as they were abruptly compelled inside the rickety old house by Miss Eloise – Pineville’s resident psychic. The seventy-something grandmother was completely unassuming appearance-wise – white curly hair, knitted cardigan, tacky beaded necklaces, tiny spectacles, the whole works – but evidently her petite, barely-five-foot stature housed a booming personality. 

“My-oh-my I wish you could stay long enough to tell me all about your adventures, but I know how terribly busy you are so I’m hoping you could stay long enough for a glass of pink lemonade, at least?”

Sam looked at Dean, and Dean looked at Sam and they both stared at each other with bewilderment. 

“Um, er, sure. Thank you,” Sam stuttered out. 

Eloise smiled up at him for a long moment before patting his arm.

“Don’t worry deary, your shadow isn’t allowed in my house, so you can enjoy the quiet for a few minutes.”

Sure enough, as soon as the psychic headed off for the kitchen, Sam heard the banging of the front door, and the angered ‘that’s not very fair!’ that wafted in on the breeze.

Dean frowned, grabbing at his brother’s shoulder.

“Sam, you said—”

“Not now, Dean. I’m fine, seriously.”

The older brother snorted his disbelief before taking a seat on one half of the floral couch, sinking straight down into the worn cushions before he suddenly bounced back up again once Sam landed himself on the other half.

“Here we are,” Eloise sing-songed as she bustled her way back into the living room with a tray of pink lemonade and shortbread biscuits. She set everything down on the coffee table before pulling up a creaky wooden chair for herself. “So, tell me what this old hag can do for you lovely boys?”

Dean smirked. “So you don’t already know?”

“Oh, Dean! You flatter an old lady! But honestly, not even God knows everything, so tell it to me straight.”

“Uh, well,” Dean fumbled, “There’s been a lot of disappearances lately, you’ve probably seen it in the papers. So we’re investigating and we’re wondering if you know of any old legends attached to this town – witches, ghosts, spirits, demons, man-sized porcupines, baby-munching nasties… You know, the usual.”

“Well, as a matter of fact I do. This town has quite a history, as it happens. Pineville’s supported a co-existence of both witches and psychic mediums for going on a hundred and fifty years now. All under the radar, of course.”

The brothers shared a glance.

Sam cleared his throat. “Would you say it was, or _is_ , a peaceful co-existence?”

“Oh, yes!” Eloise chuckled, taking a sip of her lemonade, “As far as it has been written, all those that came before were women, and we are still all women now. The original group came together here initially for the sake of their own protection, since back at that time they were being hunted, as you probably well know. The story goes that they started experimenting with their powers, and found a way for the witches to channel their power through the mediums, resulting in either an alteration of the spell used, a projection of it over a great distance, or an amplification of it.”

“That sounds like some pretty intense stuff,” Dean interjected, “The kind of knowledge other people might kill for, for instance…”

“Yes, absolutely. And I’m quite sure people were killed over it. It was both their best and worst kept secret – word spread amongst the paranormal community about what they were accomplishing, but as far as I’m aware, the knowledge of _how_ was never revealed to anyone from outside the group.”

“That would have ruffled some feathers, keeping valuable secrets like that.” Sam reached out and took a biscuit from the tray, doing his best to sound conversational, and not like he was mid-interrogation. Though he got the feeling Eloise knew exactly what was what.

“Indeed it did. Apparently a great many witches, psychics, and other ‘alternative’ types travelled here either to try and join them or try and kill them. What they were doing was extremely controversial by the standards of the time, crossing the line between two different natures of magic, and blending the magics of both the dark and the light. Even today there aren’t many who do it. Or at least, not many who broadcast the fact.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh, without a doubt! Dark magics and divining magics are volatile enough on their own, let alone trying to mix the two. It’s hard enough keeping things under control even when you know what to do. I can’t imagine how it must have been when they were still perfecting the techniques way back when. Thankfully in my time I’ve only seen minor injuries, but definitely in the beginning there would have been women who died for the cause. 

“When I was still a young thing and still learning, my elders would tell us horror stories about the witches whose spells would snap and they would be severely injured from the recoil, and how the mediums would often burn out or become physically damaged from channelling too much power.”

“But what, um,” Dean paused to rethink his wording. “There must have been some greater _purpose_ for all their experimenting, right? You mentioned protection before, which, sure, is a damn good reason. But then you just said something about a cause… So my guess is that they had something a little bigger in mind.”

“Ooh, can’t put anything past you, can I?” Eloise chuckled brightly. “No one still living knows precisely how or why it all occurred the way it did. There are journals in existence, written by those involved in the initial development of these techniques, but they’re not exactly revealing when it comes to background information. 

“That said, from what information I’ve gathered over time, it did start off as only a protection charm. But apparently it wasn’t strong enough for their purposes and so on a whim the witches and mediums tried combining their powers. As you can imagine, it was a resounding success – to a point. They managed to put up a shield that not only warded off those humans with bad intentions, but would also burn any lesser supernatural being into a crisp. Naturally that put a great big target on their backs, which was obviously not part of the plan, and thus they were forced to develop further methods to keep the supernatural folk at bay. The way I see it, it was all just a big misunderstanding that got way out of hand.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “They evidently fought back, though.”

“They had to. Story goes that their shield injured some big-shot vampire with a lot of powerful friends – he took the injury as a threat, so he threatened them right back. Their options were fight or flee, and fleeing would only have gotten them killed anyway.”

“They clearly survived that confrontation. So tell me, were there any other noteworthy conflicts that you know of?”

“What are you thinking, Sammy?” Dean wondered out loud.

“Just,” Sam turned back to look Eloise in the eye, “Just humour me, if you would.”

“You think there’s something related to your case, do you?”

Dean snorted. “Actually, Sam seems to think it’s related to sex or reproduction or some shit.”

“Well, they call him the smart one for a reason. Perhaps you should pay him more attention.”

Sam could have howled with laughter at the vexed expression on his brother’s face – his jaw was clamped so tightly Sam could see the tendons in his neck pulsing from the strain.

“But now that you mention it,” Eloise went on, “There was this seer, Betty, that would tell us stories when I was very young. We would all joke about how she was mad as a hatter and old as the hills – and she certainly looked it. But I didn’t find out until I was a bit older that she wasn’t really all that old and she only came across that way because she’d get these terribly violent visions that affected her health and her sanity. Apparently her visions hadn’t always been like that, but after being part of the group for so many years and subjected to the vast amounts of power and all the magic blending…”

The psychic hesitated for the first time since they’d appeared at her front door. 

“She would always carry on about crazy things that she’d seen, but there was one story that whenever she told it, the other elders would get agitated, and tell us not to believe a word she said – they only ever said such a thing about this particular story. I think that it actually happened, is why. It was about a witch from the early days – Betty changed the names every time she told the story, but let’s call her Molly for now. So a group of mean, nasty, _male_ witches came to the town to try and challenge the power of the females. The men were very impressed at the aggression shown by the females but in typical male fashion they decided they wanted to own and control that power. The leader – let’s call him Billy – had a few tricks of his own that made the females very worried, so they approached them directly to see if they could make a deal.

“Billy surprised them all by saying he wanted to take one of the females as his wife. They hadn’t expected that at all, thinking that he merely wanted some of their spells, but they refused straight out, not wanting to give the men the satisfaction that they would win so easily. Of course, that made Billy very angry, and he attacked. Molly, who was the most powerful female at the time, took it upon herself to challenge him to a duel of sorts. Billy agreed, so he and Molly battled with their magic, causing fires and all sorts of damage through the town until they finally ended up in the forest. They were both wounded by this stage, but being so powerful, the two each possessed various amulets and tattoos and other markings of protection which were used commonly in those days to ward off death and ill-intentioned magic. Because of that, theoretically, they wouldn’t have been able to kill each other completely despite their great attempts.

“Anyway, that was the last any of the witches saw of Billy and Molly. The story says that there was a sequence of powerful explosions before it all went quiet, and all they found remaining in the forest was a lifeless clearing of charred ground, and a great oak tree that sprung up out of nowhere.”

“Well, that would explain why suddenly Pineville is overrun with oaks.”

“Quite likely,” Eloise agreed, “But like I said, there’s truly no way to know if such a thing actually happened because there’s simply no record of it, only the wild ramblings of a nutty psychic.”

“Trust me, we’ve heard much stranger things that have turned out to be true. It wouldn’t-”

Eloise stopped Dean with a wave of her hand. “You should answer that.”

“Answer wh-”

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone suddenly started belting out a Metallica song, signalling a call.

“I’ll, um, just go over there and, uh, get that… ‘Scuse me.”

Eloise waited until Dean had vacated the room before turning back to Sam, his large frame looking more than uncomfortable on the low, sunken cushions of her scungy old sofa. 

“He’ll probably dwell on my words for a bit when you leave. But I was just having a bit of fun – he’s so touchy, I couldn’t resist!”

It took Sam a moment before he realised what words she was talking about. “Oh, yeah. He’s not so good with criticisms. Can’t always take a joke either.”

“I know, I know. And he won’t change, he’ll always be like that, I can tell.” Eloise’s mouth twisted into a devilish grin. “If he really goes on about it you could tell him I know _exactly_ how much attention he paid you last night. Even this old girl would call that some impressive stamina – and they made ‘em tough back in my day, if you know what I mean.”

“Er, I…”

“Oh, and don’t you worry about the past anymore, will you? Your brother wears that regret like a great stone sitting on his shoulders. I can tell you with near certainty that neither of you will hurt each other that way again. Well, unless you ask for it specifically, of course…”

“Uh…”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when his brother trudged back into the room, cutting though the awkward mood with renewed intent – obviously something of interest had come in on that phone call.

“C’mon, Sam, we gotta split. That was the Chief; there’s been another disappearance with a healthy serving of death on the side.”

“What, wait, this literally _just_ happened?”

“Yep. Neighbour heard some weird noises, sounded like a struggle, called the cops straight away. They got there only minutes too late, one gone, one dead – the body was still warm though.”

Sam finally stood up from the couch, both knees popping as they straightened out. “We should try and catch this thing’s tail and follow it – this could be our chance to see it in action, get a look at what we’re dealing with. We could get it while it’s feeding or something; maybe catch it while it’s not expecting us.”

“Yeah, _if_ it feeds,” Dean added quietly, “Way too many what-ifs goin’ on if you ask me.”

“You’ll be wanting to check out the forest, no doubt,” Eloise piped in.

“Yeah. Any suggestions where to start?”

“Oh, I know exactly where you need to go. There’s this black cloud of energy hovering around in there that sticks out like a big, shiny beacon to a person like me.”

Dean grunted. “You mean you knew there was something in there and didn’t even-”

“Oh, please, Dean. That forest has been suffocated by bad energy for over a hundred years, and that’s no secret. But those of us that are left here, we couldn’t do anything about it even if we wanted to. Maybe back in the day they could’ve managed something, but nowadays we have neither the strength nor the manpower to take on cleansing a forest of that size. You boys though, if you manage to kill this entity – whatever it is – then the forest should hopefully be able to cleanse itself.”

“Awesome. Sounds like a piece ‘a cake.”

“Now, now,” the psychic chided, “You put that sarcasm away until you’re back outside, young man. As for where you might start your hunt, there’s a road that runs north to south right through the very middle of the town. You should follow it north and go as far as you can go, then ditch the car and travel on foot and keep going in a straight line – again, far as you can go. You’ll find the clearing no problem.”

“We will, will we?”

“If you’re as in tune to the supernatural as one would hope you’d be, then yes. Now skedaddle. My hospitality threshold draws near. Do keep in touch, though! I want to hear all about it.”

\---{{--}}---

Sam slammed the car door shut and dejectedly followed his brother up the driveway, fiddling with his tie all the while. He’d been hoping that they would be able to finish things before any more victims were taken or killed, but this still unknown _thing_ they were hunting kept pushing up the timeline, beating them to the punch. Dean hadn’t told him much in the car on the way over, only that it involved two guys this time - one taken, one dead - and same as the others, there were more holes in the floor. He’d prodded Dean a couple of times already, but he couldn’t tell whether his brother just hadn’t been told much when the Chief had called him, or if there was something he purposely wasn’t saying.

Regardless, Sam was somewhat glad that they’d be able to see an intact crime scene for once. Even with the previous incident, though only a couple of days old when they’d first gone to investigate, the scene had been figuratively ‘murdered’ by all the officers that had gone in to inspect the place, ‘bagging and tagging’ everything in sight like they saw on fucking CSI every week. But now they’d be able to get the whole story, and hopefully find some evidence that hadn’t been present at the previous abduction sites.

Dean greeted the local officer who’d been posted at the house to keep an eye on things, and lead the way up the stairs to the front door. Apparently he’d had the sense to tell Chief over the phone to keep everyone out and stop them from touching things, which meant the scene would still be fresh and hopefully any lingering smells or presences would remain.

“Just wait til you see this one, Sam,” Lucifer smirked from where he was perched by the door, “It’s a doozy. Gotta give ‘em credit, though – these kids really did their research. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

Letting that thought penetrate, Sam wondered what in the hell these two guys had gotten themselves into that would interest the damn Devil. They’d had pregnant ladies, drugs and porn, kinky art, kinky sex, what the fuck else-

“Whoa, that’s kinda new.”

Dean’s voice travelled through the hallway, startling Sam out of his daze where he’d still been standing just inside the front door. He hurried into the living room and found his brother just inside the entryway, his arms crossed and a mystified look on his face.

It wasn’t hard to see why, once he finally turned to take in the present tableau of the room, in all its bewildering glory. The overhead lights were out but the space still glowed with the illumination of what looked like hundreds of red candles. Some kind of incense was burning as well, leaving a slightly-woody, slightly-herbal smell drifting through the air, however it didn’t quite cover the metallic stench of blood coming from the corpse tied up bondage-style in the middle of the hardwood floor.

Sam moved to take a step closer to the body, but froze when he suddenly noticed the painted lines etched into the ground, markings that suddenly gave the scene a whole new meaning.

“Told you it was a knockout,” a shadowy voice slithered out from the hallway behind. “It’s almost a pity he had to die; I should have liked to give them my blessing.”

“That’s not-”

“Yeah it is, Sammy,” Dean cut in, shifting his weight to his other foot, “It’s a good ol’ fashioned magic circle, pentagram an’ all. And that right there is Quin Loblay. He and his BFF Chester were apparently well known for being practicing Wiccans.”

“Yeah, but…” Sam finally stepped inside the circle, crouching down to get a look at the groups of symbols marked around the circle’s edge. He recognised most of them, but their order and placement would indicate what the spell was trying to achieve, so he would have to inspect all of them before he could be sure. “This was some kind of big-time ritualistic thing, man. Serious black magic stuff – not exactly what your standard, small-town Wiccans would be delving into.”

“Clearly we aren’t lookin’ at any standard, small-town Wiccans then.”

“Fair enough.”

Kneeling down by the body, Sam pulled out the latex gloves he’d stashed in his pocket earlier and snapped them on. He manoeuvred the slowly stiffening limbs just enough to get a good look at the guy’s chest and hands, though he was hindered by the intricate rope work that overlaid his arms and torso, the twists and knots of it creating diamond patterns all over his skin. It wasn’t the ropes that kept his attention however, nor was it the familiar wounds on his neck or the palms of his hands – it was the symbols painted on his stomach in what looked to be blood that made Sam take a breath.

He looked to his brother in astonishment. “Christ, Dean, this was a soul binding ritual. They weren’t friends, they were lovers. And they were going to tie themselves together for eternity.”

“Huh, no kidding.” Dean smiled fondly, “Oh, to be young and stupid.”

“I mean, it’s no surprise they got jumped like this. As soon as they drew that circle the power would have started building, and it would have drawn our culprit toward them like a moth to a flame.”

“Culprit? Sammy, I think we better get you outta here, you’re starting to sound like a crime drama junkie.”

“Rich coming from you,” he shot back playfully, “But we’ve still got stuff to check out here, so… Hey, where are the holes?”

Dean gestured with his hands. “If you’d care to stand up and do a little pirouette, Anna Ballerina, you’ll find they’re all around you.”

Doing as his brother suggested, Sam rose to his feet and did a three-sixty, finding a neat line of various-sized holes skirting the perimeter of the magic circle.

“It avoided the circle?” Sam turned the detail over in his mind. “There’s been no evidence that anything about this was demonic.”

Dropping down in a crouch, Dean ran his finger through the paint that made up the circle, then lifted it to his lips. “Because it’s not – it didn’t avoid the circle, just went over it, someone put salt in the paint. So, I think now we’ve got Bobby an answer about whether it’s a spirit or not.”

“Hey, Sammy. Wanna see a neat trick?”

“Yeah, finally we catch a break,” Sam agreed with his brother, ignoring the fallen angel, though he could feel the apparition’s gaze burning holes in his back.

“Are we finished here, then? I told Chief I’d let him know when we were done checking out our ‘important FBI stuff’.”

He shrugged. “I guess-”

“Help…”

Sam’s head snapped around. “W-what?”

“Sammy, what’s going on?”

“Help me… it burns…”

He watched on it horror as the corpse at his feet suddenly began to twitch, its arms straining to get free of the ropes they were bound in.

“Ho- hot… nnn, burns…”

The body convulsed, its spine twisting at an unnatural angle, limbs pushing and pulling as they tried desperately to break out of their bonds. The candles still burning cast an eerie glow over the whole scene, and Sam felt his own body begin to involuntarily panic, his feet nearly tripping him over as he all but sprinted backward til he met the wall.

“N-no, no, nonono-”

The voice emanating from the corpse started to grow increasingly louder, and what had initially been words blurred into grunts and cries of pain. Sam couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink as the skin deepened gradually to an agonising shade of pink, whisps of heat and smoke curling up into the air. It was cooking from the inside.

“Please, no,” he whimpered, the sounds of popping and crackling ringing too loudly in his ears, the sounds of kindling in a burning fire. The rotting smell cut through the air quickly, bringing on a wave of nausea that abruptly threatened to spill out through his mouth, and he moaned aloud trying to hold back the sickness-

And then as immediately as it had appeared, it was gone again. Replaced by the comforting scents of leather and cheap motel soap, and his brother’s arms around his shoulders, shielding him from the rest of the room.

“S’okay, Sammy. Whatever fucked up shit you’re seeing isn’t real, but just come back to me, okay?”

Slowly he managed to bring his heaving breaths back to a more normal pace, and he nodded against Dean’s shoulder, giving him the all-okay.

“You good?”

Sam nodded again, peeking over his brother’s bicep, taking in the present state of the room – still and unmoving, just as it had been the entire time.

“Mm, yeah. Can we just… can we go now? Please? I need to go.”

“Of course.” Dean backed off and helped him up from the floor. “Hey, how ‘bout we go check out that forest now? Get some fresh air.”

\---{{--}}---

_Yesss…_

_So tasty…_

_So ripe…_

_Need more._

\---{{--}}---

 

“Dean?”

Sam called out for a second time as he headed back toward the way he’d come from, wondering where his brother had wandered off to. It had taken them a solid hour to find the ‘black spot’ Eloise had mentioned, though once they did it was blaringly obvious – not only did the trees within it grow more thick and gnarled-looking, but the temperature dropped a good twenty degrees, immediately chilling them to the bone. Once they’d crossed that line they did their best to head directly north as instructed, but after a further hour they’d gotten nowhere and had decided to split up to cover more ground.

Now, after the passing of yet another sixty minutes, Sam was vaguely retracing his steps, calling out his brother’s name in the hope he’d hear something in return – of course they hadn’t planned so far as to figure out how to get back, had they? But it wasn’t long before he spotted Dean’s form, standing in front of a massive oak further down in the valley, the size of which he’d never seen the likes of. He called out once again but Dean made no move to indicate he’d heard him, and the nearer Sam came to where his brother stood, the more he felt that there was some kind of charge in the air, something that made the atmosphere feel dense and oppressive.

The light seemed to wane suddenly as he dropped down into the circular clearing where Dean stood, and he could see his brother appeared to be frozen on the spot, staring down at something in the palm of his hand. He stepped forward with trepidation, pulling out the iron-plated switchblade he kept handy in his jeans pocket. Flipping open the knife he inched forward slowly, speaking Dean’s name in a near-whisper, but as he moved within twenty feet of his brother, he finally came to see the pencil-thin, vine-like threads that looked to be emerging from Dean’s own body. 

The dozen-or-so threads never stilled, always curling and weaving around through the air, not unlike the way kelp swayed in the ocean currents. Except that these held an air of menace about them, something in the very oxygen he was breathing warned him of the very real threat that they posed. And the longer Sam watched, the more acutely he could see how they poked and prodded and _caressed_ at Dean’s skin, sliding in and out of the wounds on his chest and hands in an almost obscene manner, sucking up blood and energy in equal measures.

“Hey, that’s kinda cool, actually… Gross, but cool. I might have to steal that one day.” 

Lucifer stood to one side, observing, but the shadow’s presence couldn’t have been more insignificant to Sam if he’d tried.

“Shit, Dean! Fucking wake up!”

Sam lunged forward and hacked wildly at the appendages, hearing a deafening screech echo its way through the surrounding forest, and without warning the threads withdrew from Dean like a whipcord, snapping back into the outside air and snaking back down into the blackened ground from whence they came – all in the space of a couple of seconds.

Blinking in disbelief, Sam glanced back to his brother who still hadn’t budged. However, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Dean’s body seemed to teeter where it stood, and it was only by pure reflex that Sam managed to race forward and catch his brother a mere moment before he dropped to the ground.

Carefully laying Dean’s bulk down to the grass, Sam checked his vitals – still alive and breathing, thankfully – and then bent down to inspect his hands, finding the same strange puncture wounds that they’d found on the body of Katlin Harvey in the morgue.

“Dean? Dean, wake up, man.”

“Nngh,” the older man groaned, his head shaking from side-to-side.

“Hey, hey, are you alright? Can you talk?”

“Uh,” Dean seemed to come back to himself slowly, eyes slitting open like his body wasn’t quite responding the way it should. “Huh- hurts, Sam-mm.”

“Yeah, okay, man. Just gimme a minute and I’ll lug your precious ass back to the car and we can get outta here, okay?”

Dean tried to nod, but only ended up hissing in pain, and Sam simply squeezed at his shoulder, indicating he understood.

Using his knife, Sam crudely sliced a couple of strips of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and wrapped them firmly around his brother’s palms, securing them with a small knot. He then helped Dean to bend and loosen-up his limbs which had so rapidly gone stiff, and then somehow managed to heft him back up onto his feet – though it took two tries to get him upright, Dean nearly passing out from raw agony on the first attempt.

Getting back to the car felt like it ought to have been an Olympic sport, such was the heavy lifting involved, but thankfully the further they went, the more Dean’s body began to adjust and the more weight he was able to take on his own. They were nearly back to the Impala when Sam suddenly chuckled, the arm he had wrapped around his brother’s waist squeezing playfully into his side.

“Naturally it would go after you first, being the more sexed-up sibling.”

“Hey,” Dean chided, forcing a smile, “You’re the one that decided it was about _reproductive_ energy. I figure this is merely a sign that I’m a highly virile and desirable male specimen.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, dude.” Sam shook his head in amusement, glad that his brother was feeling well enough to make a joke.

“Damn good, clearly.”

Laying his brother out in the backseat, Sam grabbed the keys and jumped in the driver’s seat, barely waiting for the door to click shut before he started up the engine. After getting back onto a main road, he’d been about to head straight to the motel when an idea struck, and he took a sharp left turn, leading them in the opposite direction.

 

\---{{--}}---

Sam sighed in relief when the door opened before him, revealing the little old lady – this time in a fluffy dressing gown.

“Eloise, I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Oh, nonsense,” she interrupted, waving his apologies away, “When it comes to you two and each other, I know you can’t help yourselves. Besides which, I’m a bit of a night-owl myself. I was up doing a little crocheting before bedtime. Quite relaxing, you know.”

“That’s great, but… can you come down to the car, maybe? Dean’s not doing so good.”

“Yes, I thought as much,” she proclaimed, scooting around Sam’s side and heading down towards the car, her furry slippers scuffing on the stone pathway.

It took a moment for Sam’s brain to catch up – yes, she was a psychic, so she probably knew they coming – and he rushed to meet up with her, getting there just in time to open the car door before she did.

“So I gather you boys have been frolicking around in the forest this afternoon?”

“Not quite sure I’d call it frolicking, precisely,” Sam muttered, helping Dean to sit upright so the elderly woman would have better access to him.

“Well, _hunting_ then. I expect Dean’s current predicament means you found what you were looking for?”

Sam shrugged awkwardly, feeling as though he were being judged somehow. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Just that it got to Dean before I could get a good look at it, take in the surroundings. So we’re gonna have to go back, but we’ll be better prepared next time.”

“Very well.”

Eloise adjusted the spectacles perched on her nose, closed her eyes, and then hastily slapped her hands down onto Dean’s pectorals, clearly not bothered by the dried blood on his shirt front.

“Ooh, its strong!” she exclaimed, “Whatever this presence is its quite strong, and I presume quite fast as well!”

She seemed to lean more heavily into Dean, as his brother winced under her almost aggressive touch, but Eloise showed no sign of discomfort or concern, she merely hummed cheerfully to herself, like a child rifling through a lucky-dip searching for the best prize.

“Mm, it’s old, too. Much older than myself, even, which is saying something!”

“Can you tell what it is exactly?” Sam prompted, “Where its from or what its doing?”

“It does carry an aura of what hangs around the forest – whatever it is, because I can’t really tell. But it seems to be dormant for now, it doesn’t feel as though it’s growing or moving, which is a good sign.”

Sam nodded disappointedly but right then Dean took first priority, everything else would have to wait. “What about the pain?”

“There’s nothing I can do that I can be certain won’t agitate this mystery presence. You can try giving him analgesia or alcohol, whatever it is you usually do, but thankfully Dean’s the tolerant sort, because my guess is that he’s going to have to bear it until you kill this thing.”

Sighing, Sam reflexively pushed his hair back behind his ears. “Great.”

“You know, I’ve been getting flashes of things the longer I’m in contact with him…” Eloise pushed her glasses up further on the ridge of her nose, despite her eyes remaining closed. “But I can’t tell whether this creature was trying to put something _in_ Dean or suck something _out_ \- you definitely interrupted it before it finished.”

“That’s good, I guess. My theory so far is that it’s feeding off of reproductive energy. Of all the people that have disappeared, most of them were taken during, um, an act of sexual nature, though the first girl was pregnant. This is the first time it’s deviated, but I’m pretty sure it’s just because we were there and convenient.”

The psychic finally drew her hands away from Dean’s body, and she inclined her head in thought. “You know, that gives me an idea. Hold on a moment.”

She made her way back into the house and returned a few minutes later with a medallion threaded onto a strip of leather, which she promptly looped over Dean’s head. She then stepped away from the car, tugging Sam along with her. “This is a special amulet, usually given either to virginal women or those that are pregnant in order to protect them – you probably shouldn’t tell your brother that, though. When the inside presence wakes again, and it will, this will hopefully keep it at bay, so unless you feel it’s really doing more damage than good, don’t let him take it off.”

“You say ‘hopefully’…”

“Look, young-Sam. It’s an amulet meant for women, obviously, so I have no idea how it will react to the fact that Dean’s a man and possesses masculine amounts of testosterone and a more forceful sex drive. Theoretically it could blow up in your face – no pun intended – but it’s the best I can offer so just be grateful to an old lady, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, right.”

At Eloise’s prompting, Sam headed back over to the Impala and prepared to drive back to the motel. But just as he was sliding the keys into the ignition, the psychic stopped him one last time.

“You should remember the story I told you, Sam. There’s a clue in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

 

\---{{--}}---

Pulling up to the motel, Sam parked the car in front of their room and wearily rolled himself out onto his feet. Rounding the side he was surprised to find Dean already getting himself up and out of the backseat, slamming the door shut with minimal effort.

“Doin’ okay?”

“S’more like an ache now. Nothin’ like it was.”

Sam leant his brother an arm to lean on as they shuffled inside the room, the scent of cheap laundry detergent and stale cigarette smoke was almost like coming home.

“Poor Dean-o, always drawing life’s short straw.” Lucifer cackled and grinned devilishly up at Sam, but then suddenly hopped up from the chair he’d been sitting on and spirited himself through the front door, disappearing into the ether.

“You, um…” Sam turned to his brother, momentarily forgetting what he was intending to say. Dean looked back expectantly, green eyes - _such_ green eyes – blinking slowly with all the patience and calm in the world. Except that Dean was neither a calm nor patient person, and his expression turned troubled quicker than the flick of a light switch.

“Somethin’ going on I should know about, Sam?”

“No, just… You-know-who just got up and left.”

Dean looked confused. “Him leaving isn’t a good thing?”

“Not really,” Sam shook his head no, “It makes me nervous when he leaves like that. I start wondering if he’s got something planned, if he’s going to try and trick me, give me a false sense of security.”

“Right.” His brother still didn’t look convinced, but that was the least of his worries.

“Think you’ll be okay to shower?”

“Should be,” Dean sluggishly kicked off his shoes and stripped off his jacket, “I’m still a little woozy but otherwise just fine.”

Sam watched him like a hawk as he struggled out of his shirt and jeans and half-stumbled his way into the bathroom, thankfully leaving the door open just a sliver. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited while his brother showered, his weight rolled forward on his toes just in case he had to get up in a hurry. But unsurprisingly, Dean was fine, and he stepped out only ten minutes later amid a cloud of steam wearing nothing but a towel.

Though his worries were unfounded, Sam was on his feet in an instant, staring at the now cleaned wounds on his brother’s neck and chest, the anxiety rolling off him in waves. He could tell Dean was about to say something, but Sam stopped him with a wave of his hand, and then moved in even more closely, his fingers brushing the edge of the dozens of pinprick-like holes marring all that glorious skin.

Dean’s breaths were shaky, and he suddenly pulled back a little, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Your turn, Sammy.”

Doing as he was told, Sam hit the shower next, and couldn’t find it in himself to be at all ashamed when he walked out in his own towel barely five minutes later.

“Dude, you sure you’re actually clean?”

Sam’s head whipped around after hearing his brother’s voice come from so close, and found Dean standing immediately at his back, his hands creeping purposefully around his waist and pulling him back into his chest. Lips dragged their way across the slope of his shoulder and swiftly he was being turned around, pulled into Dean’s embrace.

“Dean, I don’t think we should. Not after-”

“Seriously?” Dean stopped short, his hands clenching, fingers digging into Sam’s biceps. “We’ve just got this back, don’t take it away again.”

It was only after a moment’s hesitation that Sam gave in. In all honesty he didn’t want to stop this either. After the previous night he’d been reminded how once upon a time this had been a mutual coping mechanism, something that they’d been able to fall into without a second thought, that put both their minds and bodies in perfect sync. He didn’t know how they’d gone without it for so long, though considering the mountainous piles of shit they’d been dragged through in recent years; it was hardly a stretch to see how this part of their relationship had gotten so fucked up as well. 

But now, now there was a chance to right things. Put things back the way they were to some degree, make it better even. So despite their earlier scare at the forest, he wasn’t going to let his fear get in the way. No, nothing was going to stop him from fucking his brother into oblivion right the fuck now.

“Dean, take the damn towel off and get on the bed.”

His brother turned to smirk at him, already in tune with Sam’s intentions. “Yessir.”

Sam cast off his own towel and crawled onto the mattress, sliding up between Dean’s legs and groaning at the appetising sight he was presented with. 

“C’mere,” Dean muttered, reaching up to tug on Sam’s shower-damp hair, pulling him in to a deep kiss.

Pressing his body closer to Dean’s, Sam slid his hands up, bracketing his brother’s head protectively and letting his tongue delve deeper into that willing mouth. His hips began moving of their own accord, and Dean eagerly bucked up, seeking more of the dry friction. Reaching down, Sam wrapped his palm around both their dicks and squeezed, pulling and twisting until they were both fully hard.

“Shit, Sam.”

“Mm?”

A moan rumbled through his chest as Sam bit down on the skin behind his ear, nipping at the same spot until the skin was pink and inflamed, promising the appearance of a bruise by morning. Sam shifted downward then, following the incline of Dean’s neck and collarbone, running the edge of his teeth along the ridge of bone and leaving his mark in the flesh of his brother’s shoulder.

“Jesus, Sam, fuck me… Fuck me already.”

With a laugh, Sam rose up and leaned over to the nightstand to find the lube. Dean grunted and kicked him in the thigh when he pulled his hand away from their cocks, leaving them both red and aching in the cool air of the room.

“Dude, I need two hands to get this stuff. You need to pick what you want and deal with it.”

Dean hissed back, “Fuck you, Princess. Just get movin’ already, this ass isn’t gonna wait around all day.”

“Impatient ass, more like.”

He shut his brother up quick smart though, when Sam pushed a cold, lubed-up finger into Dean’s hole without warning, moving the digit teasingly back and forth.

“Bitch, hurry up, or I’m gonna come down there and deck you.”

Sam snorted, amused by his brother’s not-very-threatening threats. But, since he couldn’t count himself as feeling all that patient, he did as he was bid, pouring more lube into his hand and easing two, then three fingers into Dean’s body, twisting and stretching as efficiently as possible. When Dean started to squirm again, Sam withdrew and hastily rolled on a condom, lining himself up but not going any further.

“I swear to God Sam, if you don’t-”

“Do it yourself, _bitch_ ,” Sam cut in, rocking his hips forward just to tease.

Dean tried to aim a fist at his brother’s face but missed by a mile, his desperate arousal fucking with his motor control.

“Go on,” Sam urged, again lining his dick up against his brother’s entrance and just barely pushing in, “I’ve got you started; now it’s your turn.”

Exhaling deeply, Dean dug his heels into the mattress and levered himself down, sucking the whimpers of pleasure down into his throat as the rush of being filled threatened to drag him under. He stopped for a minute to adjust once Sam’s cock was completely inside, and lazily circled his legs around his brother’s waist in order to pull him in close.

“Your turn again, Princess.”

Grinning mischievously, Sam took up the challenge, securing his hands around Dean’s waist and using them to anchor him as he pulled back and then thrust forward powerfully. His brother cried out and clenched down around him, abruptly pulling the breath out from Sam’s mouth.

“Go on, Sammy, pound it out,” Dean panted as Sam began to build up a rhythm, driving his cock into him long and hard, “Want it, want it…”

Sam let himself be urged on by his brother’s eagerness, throwing his hips forward and relishing the slapping sound of their skins each time he bottomed-out. 

“Fuck, want it… need it… need more…”

Dean’s voice was like a mantra, the husky words repeated over and over again. He couldn’t explain why, but the pattern of Dean’s whispers was hypnotic in a way he couldn’t comprehend, and out of the blue Sam acted on the impulse to prod at the amulet Eloise had provided, lying innocently on his brother’s chest. He found it to be warm – more than warm, nearly burning hot – and the sensation jogged him out of his trance, shocking him back into the present.

“Want it… need… so hungry…”

Glancing around he found the luminescent digits on the clock, indicating that nearly an hour had passed since he’d leaned over to get the lube earlier, which was simply impossible. Thirty minutes maybe, but there was no way—

Sam jumped up and away from Dean when he felt an odd prodding at his back, suddenly realising that the space around the bed was dotted with hovering tree roots, aimed and ready to strike, and they were coming directly from Dean’s hands – not only from the puncture wounds in his palms, but also from new cuts scattered all over his wrists and forearms.

“No… Dean, shit—”

“So… so hungry… need…”

Snapping himself out of his shock once again, Sam leapt for the nightstand and grabbed at the dagger he’d left there earlier. Spinning around he slashed at the wavering threads, watching aghast as they chaotically withdrew back into Dean’s body – Dean’s body which was still arching and twisting as though Sam were still inside him.

“Dean, Dean! Snap out of it!”

Sam shook his brother vigorously but to no avail, eventually resorting to slapping him on the face and throwing a glass of water over his body. After a moment, Dean blinked slowly and came-to as though he’d just woken up, looking around groggily and trying to make sense of things.

“Sammy? Wha-?”

“Dean, you…” Sam stopped, his eyes drawn to the amulet still lying atop his brother’s sternum, just as it had been the whole time. “Get this thing off. Get it off right now!”

Sitting up, Dean let his brother pull the leather strip from around his neck and throw the thing carelessly across the room. 

“Dude, what’s going on? What happened?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I don’t know… I feel kinda weird. I remember you teasing me with that big fucking dick o’ yours and then… nada. Nothing. Zilch. I feel like I got short changed and missed the main event.”

“Just,” Sam took a deep breath, “I don’t wanna think about it. I was fucking you and then… all those _things_ came out of you like they came out of that tree and I’m totally freaked right now. Also, I’m pretty sure it was something to do with that amulet, but-”

“Wasn’t it supposed to be for protection?”

“That’s kinda what she said…”

“So basically whatever she gave us was fucked to begin with and it probably just made this thing inside me angry.”

Sam hesitated. “She did say that she wasn’t sure what it would do if she put it on a man…”

“Yeah, helpful that,” Dean groaned, “What else did she fucking say?”

“She said that the story she told us before, about the male witch, held some kind of clue.”

“And? You’ve obviously got a theory, so spill.”

“Well, I did. I mean, I do. And it makes sense right up until this point.” Sam caught Dean’s gaze and heaved a sigh when he realised his brother wouldn’t let go until he’d explained. “I already said that I think this is something about fertility, right? Or reproduction, whatever. The male and female witches that fought back then, supposedly they were both _so_ protected that they literally couldn’t kill the other or be killed themselves – so what did they do?”

“They had to have stopped each other somehow – they were gone when the others got there and the ground was burnt, right?”

“Exactly. So I’m thinking they must have banished themselves. Like, one of them – most probably the female – locked them both away inside the earth. Maybe she imprisoned the guy inside that tree and then buried herself in the ground. Their bodies have dissolved away over time, but their spirits are still present, inside the forest, and still fighting.”

“The guy wanted to take one of the women as a bride, didn’t he?”

“Which is why this whole thing is about sex. He was going to have at one of the female witches whether they liked it or not. He probably wanted to create some super powerful line of purebred witches or some other pigheaded bullshit. So even though his body failed, his spirit keeps trying to steal that same sort of energy away from other people – now that he’s incorporeal, he probably isn’t even aware of what he’s doing.”

“What about the female, though? If her spirit’s still there shouldn’t it be trying to stop him?”

“It might be, just not the way we think. She wasn’t your average witch, you know? Going by what Eloise told us, the witches back then, because of all their experiments, their very bodies were affected from all the power they were exposed to. She’d probably mutated somehow. For all we know she might not have been strictly human anymore.”

“And so here we have mutant witches creating mutant trees and mutant forests and now trying to make happy little mutant families. Awesome.”

Sam looked pensive for a long moment, and Dean was just about to hit him when he suddenly spoke again.

“You know, I think I’ve got another theory. Possibly even a thought on how to fry this thing.”

“Good for you, Sammy. Wanna share it with the class?”

“Nah, man. I’m gonna run it by Bobby first, but you’re just going to have to wait for the climax – it’s gonna be a surprise.”

“Dude, you know I don’t like surprises.”

“Too goddamn bad.” Sam huffed and rubbed his hands over his face. “We should sleep. Do you think you can control this thing?”

Dean thought for a moment. “I think so… but maybe you better sleep in the other bed. I feel like I’ve taken an upper or something.”

“Fine. Let’s get some rest so tomorrow we can end this fucking thing already.”

\---{{--}}---

Their drained mood and otherwise uneventful sleep was cut short when Sam found himself woken before sunrise, and he turned on the light to find Dean on the floor, twisted up in the bed sheet, thrashing around as though fighting for his life.

Sam dropped down to his side and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders, calling his name and trying to calm him, but Dean only lashed out again, tangling himself further in the sheet. Desperate moans pealed from his mouth, and Sam could feel his body sweat beginning to soak through the linen.

“Dean, Dean, you gotta calm down.”

“Can’t. It’s fighting back harder. Don’t think I can control it much longer.”

“Shit, shit, _shit_.” Thinking frantically, Sam ran through his options, wondering what he could possibly do to counteract the situation. They still knew next to nothing about how these roots functioned, and with Dean in such a precarious state… All he could do was call Bobby, and hope to god that the older man has some information to offer.

He was about to get up to grab his phone when a sound drew his attention back to Dean, his head rocking back and forth. “Tie me up, Sammy.”

“Uh, what?”

“Fuckin’ tie me up! It’s easier to hold it back when I can’t move, okay?”

Sam reached tentatively for the duffel bag their lesser-used weapons were kept in, and pulled out a coil of old rope. He left his brother wrapped up in the sheet as he was, and began to craft a not-quite hogtied shape with Dean’s legs bent up behind him. Satisfied with his hasty effort, Sam finally grabbed his phone and hit the second speed dial.

“That you, Sam?”

“Yeah, Bobby. How’d you know?”

“Figured it’d be one o’ you boys, so my chances were fifty-fifty.”

“Fair enough. Listen, I-”

“It’s a good thing you called-”

“At four o’clock in the morning?”

“Yeah, believe it or not. I’ve been on the phone to some fancypants historian over in Europe of all things. I finally managed to figure out what you two are dealin’ with – it _is_ somethin’ that’s happened before, just not in the US. It takes at least a hundred years for it to occur, usually more, so we just don’t have the necessary history over here.”

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“So this guy I spoke to said it’s called a spirit fusion. It can be done to anyone, but it has to be _caused_ by a real powerful magic wielder – like a witch. Basically there has to be a rapid accumulation of power that takes place outdoors and preferably under the moon, and whoever the magic is aimed at gets thrown into the nearest natural object – for example a rock or a tree.”

“And what happens to the spirit?”

“Hold your horses, boy, I’m gettin’ there. So the body itself is obliterated in the blast, and the spirit seeks shelter in whatever object they landed in. Over time the spirit fuses with the object, sometimes it becomes part of it, sometimes it acts more like a prison.”

“It sounds like a punishment.”

“Apparently that’s what they used to use it for, hundreds of years ago. But naturally a lot of the spirits were pretty goddamn angry about bein’ trapped like that, and occasionally the stronger ones would find a way to affect the environment around them, and they’d use whatever was handy to act out their revenge.”

“Well, if the first part didn’t convince me, that last bit sure did.”

“What’ve you idjits gotten yourselves mixed up in now?”

“We’ve got a spirit-infused tree trying to, um, breed.”

“You got a _what_?”

“I told you about the reproductive energy thing, right? So going by what you’ve just said, I think this tree has grown itself roots that seek out and attack people with lots of that type of energy, it tries to suck it out through their blood, and probably tries impregnate them or something.”

“Christ, Sam, that’s pretty extreme.”

“It makes sense, though. The people that’ve disappeared… well, babies don’t grow overnight, do they? If they’re somehow being implanted with a seed, this spirit has to then keep them somewhere while it waits for… Oh, fuck, _Dean_!”

“Sam! What the hell’s going on?”

“We went to… we found the tree. Or the tree found Dean, I don’t know. It tried to… to do to him what it did to the others. I thought I stopped it but-… The psychic, she said-”

“Sam, what goddamn psychic are you talking about?”

“She’s local. She helped us. Told us about the tree. Took Dean to her when he was hurt. She- she said that the tree probably took something out, as well as put something in.”

“Oh, for the love of… Sam you better keep that brother o’ yours away from pretty girls, alright? Actually, just girls in general. Whatever’s in him might try to, you know, _infect_ them, too.”

“Uh… well…” 

“Don’t tell me…”

“I managed to stop it! Freaked me out but I stopped it in time. Dean’s… I had to tie him up. He said it was too hard to control it anymore. He keeps saying he’s hungry.”

“Sam, you’re gonna need to end this thing quick as knives. So listen up.”

\---{{--}}---

Letting his brother out of his grasp, Sam dumped the bag of supplies at his feet, rolling his shoulders back in a stretch. Dean was still upright, but his body continued to shiver uncontrollably as it had been doing since they’d gotten in the car – Sam couldn’t tell whether it was from cold or pain or if the thing inside him could sense their destination.

After Bobby had ended their call over an hour ago, Sam had somehow managed to untie his brother, get him dressed, gather the materials needed for a bumper-sized spirit annihilation, and drive them back out to the edge of the forest. He’d had to retie Dean again, though he confined it to just his upper body this time, and Sam had led them through the woods at high speed, thankful that he had a half-decent sense of direction and remembered which way to go. They’d both stumbled more than once, no thanks to the dull light of the pre-dawn, but it wasn’t long before they stood just outside the ‘black area’ they’d been in only the day before, and Sam tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come – he was going to have to move as fast as possible.

“What’s the plan, Sammy? You haven’t told me anything.”

“I’m just doing what Bobby suggested. He’s not positive it’ll work but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Dean looked at him blankly. “And?”

“We’ve gotta hit this thing where it hurts – I brought holy water, salt, iron swords, a flame gun and weed killer.”

“Weed killer?”

“It’s got a homicidal spirit in it, sure, but it’s still a fucking tree.”

“Point taken.” Dean shuffled his feet. “Whadd’ya want me to do?”

Sam paused, torn between giving his brother a sword and telling him to sit down and not interfere. But if he were honest with himself, and right now he didn’t really have time not to be, he knew there was only one option that was going to give him the best chance of making it out alive.

Grabbing his switchblade he easily sliced through the ropes, freeing Dean’s arms from their bonds. His limbs were still trembling, perhaps even more severely than before, but he simply handed him one of the iron swords.

He eyed his brother closely, “Think you can handle that?”

“I’ll make sure I do,” Dean replied, sounding determined, “I’m guessing you want me to find our missing flock.”

“If you don’t mind. The more I think about what Bobby said, the more I’m sure that they have to be close by. There’s no way this thing would let them out of its sight.”

“You reckon they’re alive.”

“Most likely.”

Dean didn’t say a word, merely nodded his acceptance. 

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

Sam led the way down into the valley, shivering when the shock of the temperature change penetrated through his several layers of clothing. Dean stayed right on his heels the whole way, though he could tell his brother was gradually struggling more the deeper into the black area they got, and he had to wonder if the proximity to the spirit-tree was agitating the thing inside him. He hoped his brother would be able to keep his focus once they reached their destination. 

Another quarter-hour passed before Sam finally spotted the clearing, and he slowed their pace right down as they made their approach. At last he was able to assess the area, making note of the great oak tree standing at one end, and the almost perfectly circular patch of blackened ground in the centre, so dark he almost imagined he could still smell the vapour of a dying fire.

Dean remained standing behind him, his fingers buried tightly in the folds of Sam’s jacket as though he would fall if not for the anchor. He shrugged a shoulder, trying to get his brother’s attention, but Dean only squeezed tighter around his handfuls.

“Hey, Dean, what do you think?”

“I think I feel like I’m about to be sucked into the earth,” he breathed in labouredly, “My legs feel like they’re full of lead, and my arms feel restless, like they wanna flail about like a crazy person.”

“That’s helpful.”

“You asked.”

“Guess I did.”

Taking a few more steps forward, Sam noticed a number of odd shapes lined up on the opposite side of the clearing. All were different sizes and of varying shades of brown, but despite their tree-like appearance, they seemed too regularly spaced and out of place somehow. He could feel Dean more closely onto his back, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder, gaze looking out in the same direction as Sam.

“Wanna bet that’s our missing dudes and dudettes?”

“I’d say you’re right. At least we know where they are now.”

Sam felt his brother slowly untangle his fingers and then right himself on his own two feet. Dean rearranged his grip on the hilt of the sword and held it at the ready, giving the weapon a single practice swing before he squared his shoulders and headed off to take the long way around the clearing. He didn’t even turn back when he called out-

“Hurry up and do your thing, Gigantor! I ain’t gonna wait around for you!”

With a grin, Sam headed off, skirting his way around the perimeter of the clearing, drawing up close to the side of the great oak. Reaching into his bag he pulled out his materials and got straight to work, barely taking a moment to blink or breathe. He splashed the holy water on first, followed by the salt and then went crazy with the weed killer, using up the whole four gallon tank. Finally he picked up the flame gun and aimed it at the centre of the tree trunk. It was with a satisfied grin that he pulled the trigger, watching with sadistic pleasure as the bark instantly went up in flames.

He pulled back quickly as the fire burned hot, the heat licking at his skin, and he clumsily swapped the gun for the second iron sword. He was about to move forward again when the sudden presence at his side froze him in his tracks.

“Fire’s a beautiful thing, don’t you think, Sammy?”

Lucifer turned to him and smiled, his form appearing to shift closer, though none of his limbs looked to be moving.

“It’s a pity you choose to shy away from it now. We used to have such fun down there in the pit, watching your flesh char and burn, over and over again.”

Sam instinctively took a step back.

“Such a beautiful thing, Sammy…”

Before Sam could blink the fallen angel flicked his wrist, and the sword flew from his grasp, piercing the tree through its heart.

The high-pitched screeching he’d heard the day before came back in full force, almost to the point where Sam wondered if his ears might start bleeding. He went to cover his ears but stopped himself in his tracks, somehow through the cacophony remembering that there was something else his hands needed to reach for. He pulled the paper out of his back pocket, flattening it out and casting his eyes over the short incantation Bobby had relayed over the phone.

He ran forward, standing before the blazing tree, and began to recite the chant as loud as he could manage, battling against the piercing screams that continued to ring out. He was just about to voice the final phrase when he felt a strange pressure pushing against his chest. Glancing down he met the sight of a single tree root, the thread of it worming its way through the fabric of his t-shirt and burrowing deliberately against the flesh of his ribcage.

He wasn’t sure what happened next, but something caught Sam’s attention, luring it back up toward the oak tree, where he was faced with the spectacle of what looked like a hundred or more pencil-thin roots, all aimed at him like arrows, ready to strike.

“Fuck.”

Within a heartbeat Sam felt himself speared from every direction, and suddenly his body was being lifted from the ground, tugged up into the air where he really would have preferred not to be. It wasn’t long before his head started to swim and the tickling-sensation caused by the roots abruptly became the most excruciating pain, and tiny rivulets of bloods were beginning to bead around the wounds. 

He felt the threads move all at once, like they were breathing together, and then in one jerking motion they lanced deeper into his skin. He felt for sure that everything was about to be over, that his life was about to end – yet again. But the next thing he knew he was on his back looking up from the ground, and the air was rushing forth from his lungs. His vision was blurry but he could still make out the bloodied tips of the tree roots thrashing about wildly in the air, whipping around without control, and the previously wood-brown surface of them appeared to be slowly turning black – the colour of charcoal.

Sam knew that the sounds of squealing and shrieking he could hear should have been deafening, but to him everything felt as though it were filtering through a layer of water; such was the muted noise that he could barely make out. Instead, the sound that he heard most clearly of all was that of laughter. A man’s laugh, deep and seductive, almost evil in its cadence. And it endured even through the blackness that steadily overtook him.

When he eventually woke, Sam blinked his weary eyes open to the sight of possibly the last person he expected to see.

“Eloise?” he choked out, “What-?”

“Oh, yes dear, it’s me,” she bit down on a coral-painted lip, her expression evasive. “I hope you don’t think I’ve deceived you or-”

“Deceived me?” Sam’s heart dropped into his stomach, “Why, what have you done?”

“Nothing too bad. That is, I gave your brother that amulet knowing quite well that it would stir up his energy and prompt the entity inside him to start feeding, but I just had to get this all over with more quickly, it’s been driving me near up the wall!”

“You… why would you do that?”

Eloise gave him an apologetic smile. “It was my ancestor that fought that warlock and ended up trapped in the earth here, bending to his vile will for the last hundred and fifty years. She’s been visiting my dreams since I was a girl, and charged me with the duty of setting her free. Thanks to you boys I’ve now accomplished that.”

“But… I…”

“Now, now, stuttering won’t get your questions answered, young man. But I will say that you’re quite lucky for having that wicked demon inside you. While, yes, if you’d actually managed to _finish_ that darn incantation, we would’ve been right as rain without all this commotion. But undoubtedly the strongest weapon against a transformed spirit like that is to slap it in the face with its absolute antithesis.”

“Which was?”

“Fear, of course! Weed killer, my ass, but at least you tried. Fear, though… That warlock had never feared a thing in his entire life, and even in death he would feed off the fear of his targets. By trying to feed off of you, he was faced with the one thing in existence that might actually frighten him – the devil himself.”

“Oh,” Sam could barely force the sound from his throat.

“Indeed. Now might I suggest you tend to your brother? He was knocked unconscious by the combination of smoke and disorderly mutant tree roots, but will be waking shortly. And I’ve already notified the authorities about your endeavours, so they’ll be here to collect our no-longer-missing persons very shortly.”

Eloise straightened her cardigan and adjusted her glasses before heading off back the way she’d come, looking suitably prim and quite pleased with herself. It took a few more moments for Sam to gather his wits about him, such was his disorientation, but he finally managed to focus in on Dean needing his help, and dragged himself over to where his brother lay still on the ground.

“Dean? Hey, Dean, can you hear me?”

His brother moaned, coughing up dust and smoke before he finally settled.

“Sammy, you’re…” Dean blinked, “I thought it got you?”

“Yeah, it did.”

His brother heaved himself up into a sitting position and looked him over, zeroing in on the scattered wounds on his torso and arms, his frown deepening by the second. “But you’re-”

“I know, I look like a pin cushion, but it spat me back out, I guess.” Sam looked down at his still-trembling hands and suddenly started to laugh.

“Um, dude, not seeing the funny over here?”

“It spat me out, Dean. We’ve been spat out of Heaven, then Hell spits me out, and then a soul-eating tree – a fucking mutant _tree_ \- spits me out, too. Guess nowhere wants me, huh?”

Dean unsteadily grabbed his brother’s hands and held them between his own. “Right here is just fine, man. So don’t you fuckin’ go _any_ where, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m just glad we’ve finally seen the end of this thing.”

“Just saying ‘the end’ seems a little too understated if you ask me.”

In the background Lucifer scoffed. “I see you guys are yet again, more than happy to take the credit for something you essentially did not do. Seriously, if it weren’t for my hanging around, you two morons would be leaf litter by now. I’m just saying...”

Sam threw his gaze over his shoulder and glared with all the hatred he possessed. “You’re ruining the mood. Fuck the hell off.”

With a melodramatic sigh, the fallen angel grasped at his chest, his t-shirt bunching up over his heart. “That’s okay, Princess, I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Better,” Sam declared, turning back around with an accomplished grin. “I told him to fuck off, and he actually listened for once.”

“That’s awesome an’ all,” Dean huffed, ever awkward about his brother’s imaginary friend, “But I’d really rather that we fuck off outta this forest right about now. It’s givin’ me the heeby-jeebies.”

Sam snorted. “Aw, precious. Don’t worry I’ll take you home. I’ll even put you to bed and tuck you in.”

“Yeah, fuck you too, little bro. Now goddamn help me up.”

\---{{--}}---


End file.
